The Flying Dutchman
by BrethlessM
Summary: Elizabeth has been faithful to Will for ten years, but only days from his return, an old pirate friend shows up to complicate things  badly. Based on the original story of The Flying Dutchman. JE WE Character death! Tragic ending  you've been warned!
1. Chapter 1

_

Chapter One

_

The sun shone so hot over the Caribbean that when the bright orb reached its apex, none could find comfort from her, not even indoors. Even so, the heat did nothing to dampen the high spirits of Captain Jack Sparrow - but then, he had found that there was little to be displeased with these days.

Because of course, he was not only _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, but also the _immortal_ Captain Jack Sparrow, and as much as he liked the sound of that, he enjoyed the reality of it even more. Staring into the distance at the pattern of the sun's reflection on the surface of the sea, he grinned like a madman. And why shouldn't he? After all, it had be he, and not Barbossa, who had been the first to find the Aqua de Vida – the Fountain of Youth - and the key to the manacles of mortality. And he'd done it using a leaky dinghy and a stolen map, no less – not forgetting the rum; there had been _lots_ of rum.

No sooner was Jack uninhibited by the delicacy of his flesh then he had turned his attentions to getting back the _Pearl_, a task made much simpler when you no longer feared dying. Getting stabbed or shot hurt, to be sure, but the look on Barbossa's face, as Jack had waved good-bye to him before setting him out on Jack's own dinghy with only a pistol and a bottle of rum for company, was worth the pain.

What more could a black-hearted pirate of the Spanish Main want? He gently caressed the ship's railing before him. He had his freedom, and he had eternity to enjoy it. Even better, he had as much rum as he could ever want – a thought that immediately sent him towards the helm of his ship in search of a bit of silent communion with the sea.

Waving his hands nonchalantly at the young man at the helm, Jack shooed him away and took the wheel. The boy spared only a moment to give him a terrified glare before disappearing below deck. Jack didn't bother hiding his smirk. The boy had been recruited from a Royal Navy vessel at the point of a sword, _his_ sword, to be exact. Jack wasn't one to force others into servitude; such actions usually led to no good - insubordination, or even mutiny, but he'd had little choice at the time. The boy could steer, and Jack had needed someone to replace Cotton.

One of the few downsides to being immortal, and Jack saw very few, was that time seemed to have lost all meaning to him. Faced with eternity, days had quickly begun bleeding into one another, until he only noticed the passage of time as it began ravaging the faces of those around him.

The life of a pirate was not usually long, and natural death among the lot of them was definitely out of the ordinary. It was, therefore, unsurprising when no one had at first understood what was happening when Cotton, manning the helm as usual, gave an unexpected gasp and slumped to the deck, motionless.

Gibbs, perhaps looking down the throat of his own mortality, had been the first to react, running to the mute sailor's side as the rest of the crew had stood frozen in place. After a moment of silence in which Gibbs' fingers prodded at Cotton, the old man had looked up grimly. "He's dead, Jack."

Jack could only stare in consternation at the body of his Helmsman, silently cursing the inconvenience to ignore the tightening in his chest, when something else wholly unexpected happened.

Cotton parrot, startled from his master's shoulder when the man had fallen, had suddenly alighted on the deck beside Cotton's head. The bird tottered over to the body, craning its neck as if to examine the scene from a different angle, and with a short flap of his wings, had resettled on the dead pirate's arm.

"Don't eat me!" the parrot had croaked, and without another sound, the bird fell to the deck beside its master.

As bothered as he was by the loss of his Helmsman, Jack was less concerned about the passing of the parrot; he wasn't sure what he would have done with the thing had it not faithfully followed its master into death. It would have been like talking to a ghost, and Jack had done enough of that to last him… well, an eternity.

But time had passed, and Jack knew it never better than when he looked into the face of his First mate, Joshamee Gibbs, who was headed towards him now. The man looked a lot older than he was – a testimony to a long life at sea – but he was approaching an age when most pirates would have begun looking toward the advantages of a life lived in loyal service to his captain – retirement, with a fair share of loot to ease his remaining years.

The thought might have worried Jack if he didn't know Gibbs as well as he did. The man would rather go without rum for a century than give up piracy, and Gibbs' loyalty wouldn't allow him to leave Jack. So as it were, the matter was closed between them.

Jack gave no acknowledgement of the other man's presence as Gibbs came to stand beside him, looking out over the brilliant blue of the sea. "Are we headed anywhere particular, Captain?" his First mate asked.

"Not at the moment," Jack said casually. "Just following the call of the horizon."

"Ah," Gibbs replied, giving him a slantwise glance. "I was just curious as to whether you'd thought to look at your compass lately."

The comment was made in such a deceptively off-handed manner that it took a moment for the frown to crease Jack's brow in response. "The bloody thing hasn't worked since I got the _Pearl_ back, you know that," Jack said shortly. "It points nowhere I have any inclination, interest, or intention of going. And even if I had said interest, it would not be my inclination to give in to such intentions, as it were," he concluded.

Gibbs didn't respond, which had been Jack's purpose. But after a moment, the older pirate turned to him and said, "It's been nearly ten years, Jack."

Gibbs walked away before Jack could say anything, which was fine because at the moment, Jack couldn't think of a proper reply. Ten years – had it really been ten years? Jack felt his pleasure melt away until he found himself scowling at nothing. Ten years. Wait, not ten, _nearly_ ten – that had been the old dog's point. 

From the moment he'd set her onto that sandy beach and sailed off into the sunset, he'd vowed to never look back - and with few exceptions, he hadn't. Or at least, he liked to believe he hadn't. Comments like the one from Gibbs brought the troublesome Ms. Swann to Jack's mind a lot more often than he'd like. No, not Ms. Swann - _Mrs._ Turner.

The sky above suddenly seemed to darken, and a gust of wind from out of nowhere rushed past, blowing Jack's dreadlocked hair into his eyes. Absently calling orders to his crew to adjust to the change in the weather, Jack glanced down at his belt, and the small box hanging at his waist. The last time he'd looked at the thing, he'd been in Tortuga, and the act had later resulted in a slap from Scarlett in response, in a moment of passion, to being called a name that was decidedly not her own.

Ten years… he'd lived well enough, gotten into more than a few scrapes. Nothing a rouge of the sea such as himself couldn't handle. It was a life he'd always wanted. It was everything he'd ever wanted. Except….

Rum. He needed rum. As if sensing the captain's distress, Gibbs reappeared with the intention of taking the helm, and Jack let him without protest. With a smug grin, as though the lack of a complaint confirmed Gibbs' suspicions, he asked, "What's your heading, Captain?"

Scowling, Jack stared at Gibbs who met his gaze without flinching, which only served to irritate him further. Defiantly, Jack ripped the compass from his belt and thumbed the latch open. For a moment he continued to glare at his First mate, daring the man to imply that he was looking at the device due to any insinuation of his, before darting a quick glance at the compass.

Ten damn years, and the thing still pointed towards the only thing Jack was _sure_ he didn't want – Elizabeth. Without a word or a change in his expression, Jack held out the compass for Gibbs to examine, and had the urge to shoot something when the man simply nodded confidently.

"I'll be in me cabin," Jack said. "Tell the men we'll be stopping in bonny Port Royal for a spell – they might want to be prepared for an unwelcome."

"No need, Captain… the crew's been looking forward to that port of call for months now," Gibbs said merrily.

Jack froze in the doorway to his cabin before storming inside, slamming the barrier behind him to the sound of Gibbs' roaring laughter.

Where _was_ that rum?


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Elizabeth Turner sat in the parlor, staring into the fireplace as she fumbled with the stitching in her hands. The other women in the room talked around her, oblivious to their host's distraction as they chatted and gossiped like they did every Tuesday afternoon. Tearing her gaze away from the hypnotic dance of the flames, she scowled at the offending needle between her fingers, longing to chuck it away from her and be done with it.

Clamping down on a long-held sigh, Elizabeth focused on the task of rethreading the errant blue floss through the needle's eye before concentrating once more on the embroidery in her lap. She hated embroidery. She always had. Even as a well-bred governor's daughter she had abhorred the mind-numbing drudgery of picking out flowers in a sampler while listening to hens clucking all about her. There was only one thing in this world that would make her endure such a torture, and as though emphasizing that point, her son came running through the doors, red-cheeked from the wind.

"Mother!" young William called excitedly, eyes glowing. "Mother! There are ships on the horizon! Is it time yet?" The boy threw himself into her arms, and the embroidery fell to the floor, forgotten.

"Not quite yet, love," Elizabeth stroked her son's head, thinking again how much he looked like his father. "But soon. Did you behave yourself?" She asked, already knowing the answer – he _was_ his father's son, after all. "You stayed away from the docks, as I asked?"

William looked hurt that she'd even doubt him. "Yes," he said. "But can we go visit the sailors right after supper? They promised to teach me some more knots!"

Elizabeth smiled, conscious of the women watching her and not caring what they thought one bit. "If the weather holds, I suppose. We can take the bread we baked this morning – I know they'll appreciate a good meal while in port."

William sailed out of the room with a jubilant cheer, making her heart feel as though it would burst. There was nothing in this world she wouldn't do for that boy.

One of the ladies to her right coughed politely, and Elizabeth turned, smiling prettily. "You're not catching cold, I hope?" Not one of them would ever suspect dear Mrs. Turner of being cheeky, and the comment passed as sincere.

"Why no, dear, don't fret," Mrs. Ellis tittered cheerily. "I was only wondering if it were wise to allow your son to spend time in the company of such men," she said with an air of mild concern that made Elizabeth hide her clenching fist beneath her apron. "It's just that they're so coarse, and he's such a fine, sweet boy."

Elizabeth forced a smile. "William's father is a sailor," she replied calmly. "The men are so good to him, and he wants very much to know the work his father does. Besides, it's my duty as the wife of a sailor to look after his brethren in port." Her smile was genuine now. "I can only hope that someone else would look after Will, were he alone on strange shores." There was no way for her neighbors to know that this was an impossible scenario, but the tiny lie served to reinforce her position.

"Oh, of course, we understand," Mrs. Jenson said warmly. "Your husband would have to be such a fine man to have won you as his wife."

"He is that… a good man." Elizabeth felt her irritation dissipate. As the women began chatting again, she scolded herself for her impatience. The ladies in the sewing party were really quite kind, and she knew them to be good people. Since her return to Port Royal ten years ago, there were few who remembered her as Elizabeth Swann, the governor's daughter, and for that, she was glad. Now she was just Mrs. Turner, the wife of a seaman in the unenviable position of raising their son while her husband struggled to earn them enough money to settle comfortably on the coast.

In abandoning Ms. Swann in favor of Mrs. Turner, Elizabeth had found herself living a life she'd never anticipated. It was one she both relished and dreaded. When she thought back to her last days as the Pirate King of the Brethren Court, she could only see Will lying on the deck of the _Flying Dutchman_ with Davey Jones' sword protruding from his chest. He'd be dead if Jack Sparrow hadn't done something completely unselfish, and therefore unexpected, by forcing Will to stab Jones' heart, thereby accepting immortality and the captaincy of the _Dutchman._

And no one in Port Royal knew a thing about it. That was a blessing and a curse, for Elizabeth now had no need to defend her past actions in assisting Captain Sparrow, for no one in her current acquaintance knew her as the brash girl she'd once been. However, this also forced Elizabeth to harbor secrets that threatened the very foundation of her life. If it were known that Will was a pirate; that _she_, in fact, had been one of the pirate lords; that the both of them had assisted the most notorious pirate of the seven seas on numerous occasions….

"Jack Sparrow…"

Elizabeth started, craning her head towards the parlor door to make sure he hadn't appeared on her front porch in response to her thoughts. But no, it was only Mrs. Ralston, indulging in her favorite topic once more.

"Have I told you the story of the time he sacked the port of Nassau without firing a single shot?"

Emily Ralston, a rather full-figured woman with fading red hair and blue eyes, fancied herself quite the expert on the infamous pirate. Never an opportunity passed without a story of an often suspicious pedigree being offered up to the eager bunch of women in Elizabeth's parlor.

It was all she could do not to strangle the woman every time.

Jack Sparrow was… Elizabeth sighed, and was glad when nobody noticed her do it. She hadn't seen him in ten years, and sometimes she even wondered if the days spent on board the _Black Pearl_ had actually happened. Some days, she would find herself staring at a random scar, the one on her forearm, for instance. It would catch her eye in the midst of scrubbing the laundry, and for a moment, Elizabeth would stare at it in wonder, as though she could honestly not remember the slicing blade of the cutlass that marked her in battle.

At other times, Elizabeth would catch the eye of a sailor in the marketplace, and the man would smirk at her knowingly, and touch the brim of his hat in such a way that made her son beg for stories she'd only ever revealed to his ears. She was known – and that was her real purpose for allowing her son to accompany her down to the docks so frequently. They occasional acknowledgement of her status as not only a fellow pirate, but as lord and king – well, it took a bit of the sting out of her life as a housewife, and gave William a legacy where he would not otherwise have had one.

She was safe here. She did not fear them coming after her, or her son. They all knew who her husband was, and the threat of having Will Turner on their tail was enough of a threat without the added weight of Jack Sparrow's reputation in the balance. It was known far and wide that Captain Sparrow had an interest in her, and though she hadn't seen him in ten years either, the message was out that anyone interested in harming her risked his wrath as well.

Elizabeth frowned, stilling her needlework again. No, she hadn't seen Jack since leaving the deck of his beloved ship, but he was there, nonetheless. As much as she loved Will- and she did, with all her heart - there was a part of Jack that clung to her, refusing to let go until she acknowledged it. Despite the good and bad of their history together, his warning to her enemies told Elizabeth a lot about him, and the confusion she felt in response said a lot about her as well.

When she'd first said goodbye to him and begun life anew as Elizabeth Turner, she'd half expected Jack to turn up at any moment and sweep her off into another adventure. She would have been lying if she'd said that she hadn't wanted that, in some small way. That is, until she found herself pregnant with Will's child. There was no question about returning to the seas after that, even if Jack did come for her.

As the years had passed with no sign of Jack, Elizabeth resigned herself to the fact that she was reaping what she had sown. She couldn't regret that - she had left Jack to the Kraken in order to save the rest of the crew, including herself. It had been the only solution, and yet it had broken something within the both of them that had never been fully recovered in the days after returning from World's End. It should not have surprised her that Jack had stayed away, even if he'd made it clear that she was under his protection.

And though she resented the implication that she could not protect herself, she felt strangely warmed by the thought of it, and she knew that she did, in fact, miss him. It surprised her, but she missed him almost as much as she missed Will, and Elizabeth knew that if Jack knew that, he would be impossible to bear.

Grinning to herself, Elizabeth pictured Jack's cocky grin and glinting teeth, but it made her heart ache, and so she gently pressed the memory of his face from her mind. Thinking of Jack only reminded her of the freedom of the sea – of the life she'd dreamed of her entire life, only to let it slip through her fingers with the least resistance. It wouldn't do to dwell on things she could not have.

Anyway it would soon be worth the loss. Will was almost home again. This time Elizabeth's smile lit her entire face. It was only a few days until she'd be in Will's arms again. She'd been faithful, and Will would be free from his duties as the Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_. After ten long years - and more, counting the two since they'd first me Jack Sparrow and their lives had changed forever - Elizabeth would finally have what she'd given up everything for.

She and Will and their son would be together, at long last. It was enough to make her take up her embroidery again in earnest, and she even smiled as she did it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The day was overcast, but still pleasantly warm. A light breeze whipped the smell of salt from the sea all around the port city - a constant reminder of the means by which so many of its residence made their livelihood. Men in bright red coats with white bandoleers passed through the streets of the town amid sailors, merchants, and an even larger percentage of women, procuring the necessities to support the lives of their loved ones or employers.

Port Royal was a city rich in history, with enough stories of excitement and adventure to satisfy the mind of a young boy born to pirates. Fed on the tales of his parent's own intrigues upon the sea, if young William Turner had any doubts that his future lay before the mast, they were soon put to rest by the boy's natural inclination towards all things nautical. At the age of nine the child was already proficient in the language of maps, charts, and sailor jargon. He could climb to the top of any mast his mother would let him near, and his growing skill with knots was enough by itself to earn him the attention of the sailors in port he so loved to emulate.

He had never been under any delusions about who and what his parents were. It was a legend as familiar to him as those of Blackbeard or Bartholomew. His mother had told him everything about their lives before his birth from the moment he'd been old enough to ask, and he was fiercely proud of his family's legacy… even if it was something he could never tell anyone else.

Elizabeth had raised William well, and she'd never once allowed him to think that there was anything shameful about his existence - a fact not lost on the boy, despite his age. Pirates were not favorable companions to anyone but pirates, and William knew this well enough to keep his secrets close to his chest, where he could savor them in private.

No one knew more about pirates than he – one of the many qualities he'd inherited from his mother. His exuberance for the romance of life on the high seas was not tarnished by his knowledge of the ugliness of pirate life, for he knew the unsavory details just as well as the exciting ones. It was the actual _fact_ of pirate life – the undeniable and unavoidable reality of swashbuckling buccaneers in his universe, that fed William's hunger for the sea.

He was the son of pirates. His father's father had been a pirate before him, and even his mother's father had been a sailor – although with the Royal Navy. He was not born during a typhoon, as his parents' friend Captain Sparrow was reputed to have been, but he had salt in his blood as surely as did every pirate who'd roamed the seven seas.

His mother knew it, and to her credit, she'd never tried to dissuade William from the life he'd been irrevocably drawn to from birth. She kept no secrets from her son, knowing that a pirate's life, while not one she would have realistically chosen for her child in light of her own working knowledge of its nature, was one that called to a person with the voice of a siren. She prepared him with all she thought necessary for the bearer of his pedigree to know, and raised him to be a good, honest, and noble young man – with a strict regard for personal hygiene. Were he to follow his path into a life of piracy, the least she could hope to say of him was that he would remember to bathe with greater frequency then the men she'd had cause to associate with in her past.

She often wondered, though she felt she knew, what Will would think about her choices regarding their son. Elizabeth remember clearly her husband's repulsion for pirates, born out of resentment for the father who'd abandoned him for the sea when he'd been no older than William. Despite their history as pirates themselves, she feared that Will would be horrified to know that she was practically giving William her blessing to follow in their footsteps, even going to far as to train him in the use of a sword.

No one though, could spend any length of time with young William and deny his natural aptitude for the life of a sailor, and it would have been foolish, not to mention hypocritical, of Elizabeth to try and deter him from his interests. Though she wished for him a longer and safer life than those afforded to seafarers, she knew from experience that keeping him from what he was attracted to would only serve to push him further into the exploration of said desires. Elizabeth was the first to acknowledge the allure of piracy, which she had bequeathed to her son.

And were she quite honest, Elizabeth would admit that she would have been disappointed had William not been drawn into the romance that had come to define her own life. She was proud of him, and no mother could have wanted her son's happiness more, then that she was willing to support him in even this most unusual of endeavors. She _was_, after all, a pirate herself. There was no denying that.

As the two of them walked the streets of Port Royale stopping here and there to examine rolls of fabric or to procure the costly but needful citrus fruit, which Elizabeth would offer to visiting sailors, the pair were greeted with the kind familiarity due to well-known members of the community. They returned these greetings with equal warmth, both mother and son aware of the secrets lying beneath the veneer of their respectability.

The basket in William's arms was heavy with the loaves of warm bread he and his mother had spent the morning baking, but despite the load he managed to keep his usual skipping gait beside his mother, who walked with the sure stride of one accustomed to authority and unafraid of reprisals. It was an attitude that caused all who saw her to obey the unspoken power, and yet never be aware of its implications.

It was an attitude that William, all knees and feet, longed to grow into as he approached his tenth birthday in the coming year. Shifting the weight of the basket from one arm to another, he twitched with impatience as his mother stopped yet again, this time to examine a barrel of nuts just outside the door of the last store on the street leading down to the docks – their ultimate destination.

Their weekly trip to the port that had given birth to their city was looked forward to with as much anticipation by the mother as her son. William knew this, and yet could not understand why, when the time came to actually make the trip down to the docks, she always seemed to lag a step behind him, as if to forestall the actual moment of arrival. She lived for the sea - William saw the longing in her eyes as they stood on the cliffs overlooking the waters just near their home each evening - but the scarcity of years to his name could not interpret the ache that lay hidden at the bottom of those orbs, which ended in a pool seated heavily in her heart.

With her new purchases added to the top of the basket in her own hands, Elizabeth smiled down at her son, and without a word turned their steps towards the docks. Her attitude changed in the moments between their departure from the city and their arrival in the world of sailors and seadogs; she became harder, more solid, and the vague smile that was her usual expression sharpened into a wicked curve of her lips that made William's heart race with excitement. She was Elizabeth the Pirate King in these moments, and it was a side of his mother that William would never tire of seeing.

The legitimate sailors, merchant ships mostly, always came first - they never visited the Royal Navy vessels, if it could be helped. It was from William's basket that these men were fed, and they were always happy to greet the beautiful woman and her eager young son when they came to visit. Those who docked here frequently knew both William and Elizabeth, and Elizabeth was content to take up her seat on a wooden stump while keeping an eye on her child as the sailors came to her for conversation or some of the medical service she could offer.

In the ten years since bidding good-bye to her own life on the sea, Elizabeth had become proficient in her knowledge of medicine and minor surgery. What had begun as something to keep herself busy, and to bolster a mother's knowledge in the care of a sure to be rambunctious child, had swiftly turned into what would have been considered a trade, had she been a man. Instead, Elizabeth had aimed her talents towards the harbor, tending to seamen of all breeds who had limited access to treatment for a variety of maladies and injuries.

While a bevy of men came to sit at her feet and talk, lonely for the companionship of a female with open ears, others came to have wounds stitched, exotic diseases diagnosed, and herbal remedies given for everything from nausea to venereal diseases. Elizabeth was seen as an angel to these men, and William, whose father was known only as a long-traveling sailor, was treated to an endless stream of tales of high-sea adventures and lessons in a variety of skills.

He followed them, attentive to each and every task they preformed both on ship and off. William always asked if they had heard tell of his father, William Turner, but he was not surprised when they apologetically shook their heads in denial. As his mother had once told him, if they had heard of Captain Turner, they would no longer be able to tell any mortal soul about the encounter.

William and Elizabeth spent the entire afternoon at the docks – much longer than they'd admit to anyone who knew them in town. It was a time of communion for the pair, and amid all of their secrets, it was this time more than any other that defined their lives. Though they could not be on the seas, neither could they stay away from it.

But it was as afternoon became evening, and the sun sunk low enough in the sky to cast a pink and orange glow across the horizon, that the young boy and his mother turned towards a small stretch of beach, uninhabited by most and unknown to any except the few pirates who chose to land their longboats in the cove away from the city proper in order to hide their arrival and departure. It was a place to restock, a place to rest without fear of discovery, and it was a place that Elizabeth took her son to do their most important work.

They did not always find signs of pirates among the sand and rocks of the small inlet. The cove was not visible from land at any point save the cliff near their house, but those who used the beach as a safe point of landing were proficient at hiding their comings and goings from the eyes of the Royal Navy. Pirate crews changed members with an unsurprising frequency, but after ten years it was no longer a secret that Mrs. Turner was an ally to the pirates who visited her shores, and often signals would be left for Elizabeth when they came to call.

Patterns in the sand, or random objects place in not so random arrangements were the most frequent signals that visitors were sheltered nearby, but often, in their late night sojourn to the cliffs before bidding goodnight to the day, William would see a timely flash of light from the inlet, and these sightings were always followed the next day by what he considered their 'pirate adventures.'

There had been such a signal the night before, and though William never questioned the flaming sightings, he knew from experience, and the smell of baking bread that greeted him upon wakening, that such a visit was on the agenda for the day.

Getting to the cove involved a short walk through the water around a rocky outcropping that hid the small expanse of beach from view. It was sufficiently jagged enough to prevent ships unaware of its existence from getting close enough to catch sight of any pirate vessels sheltered therein, and not even the Royal Navy dared come near enough to search it. William had the suspicion that those who policed the shores of their home were willing to let the pirates use the hostile shelter, so long as they ventured no closer to civilization than that.

Picking his way over bits of driftwood sprawled in the sand, William forced himself to wait for his mother to catch up every few minutes, weighted down by the burden of her still full basket. The length of her dress was tucked up around her waist to prevent them from getting wet, and she had not yet replaced her boots, the length of which she had tucked beneath her arm along with William's own shoes.

"Is this it?" William asked suddenly, rushing towards a collection of crossed sticks and various seashells arranged in the sand just far enough away from the greedy fingers of the surf. Elizabeth stopped to examine the runes, biting her lower lip in concentration.

"Yes… they're in the Diamond Caves," she announced, finding some meaning in the pattern of debris. "It's a bit further on than usual, but it appears that there's more than a few ships there now," her eyes narrowed in thought.

William studied his mother's expression. "They must need better shelter if there are so many of them. Why do you think they all came together?"

Scanning the coast, his mother shook her head absently. "I'm not sure… pirates don't often congregate in large groups, unless…." She trailed off with a shake of her head. Tearing her gaze away from the water and smiling at her son, she tilted her head in the direction they were going to take. "Well, for whatever reason they're here, they're sure to be in need of food and medicine. Are you prepared to face a hoard of scurvy pirates, Master Turner?"

William's grin unknowingly mirrored that of his father's most mischievous. "Aye, Captain!" he said. "Let's give these bully's a royal welcome to our shores."

He did not notice that, as his mother put her boots back on, she checked the hidden sheath within the leg to make sure that the concealed blade was in its place. Helping him on with his own boots, Elizabeth took William's hand safely in hers before setting out again, around another rocky cliff-face and then another.

Their own house, high above, was almost visible from an angle now, and Elizabeth realized that if they were to creep to one edge of their cliff and peer over the side, the pirate gathering would be nearly beneath them.

And a gathering it was. No less than five pirate vessels were moored along the beach, as close as the shallows of the water would safely allow. The cove was larger than any of the others around, and therefore a riskier hideout for pirates, but none of the others would hold the sheer number of them that were now ranged along the beach.

Close to three hundred men traveled back and forth between their respective ships, lugging supplies or giving orders. Though generally dressed the same, it was easy to tell one crew from the other by the way the men either hung together, or glared uncertainly at those nearby.

William had never seen so many pirates in one place in all his life, and he had only heard of such a vast number of pirates all together at one other time – the meeting of the Lords of the Brethren Court. Unconsciously, William grasped his mother's hand just a little tighter, and looked at her face in time to see her lips purse together into a grim, tight line.

Without comment, Elizabeth made her way towards the nearest vessel, a galley ship with the name '_Crimson Bride_' painted in peeling red paint on the hull. It was a ship William had seen several times in his memory. The _Bride's_ Captain, a Spaniard called Captain Dulce due to his deceptively boyish face, stood close in velvet coattails, barking orders to his crew. Sensing Elizabeth and William's approach, he turned around with an aura of coiled energy, hand immediately on the pistol at his waist. He relaxed when he saw them.

"Captain Swann," he said with a gleaming grin and an almost formal bow. "I must say, we be gratified by your presence."

Elizabeth returned the smile with an acknowledging nod of her head at the neck. William thought it very regal, and he mimicked it precisely. "It's good to see you, Rodrigo. Although I profess, I'm surprised by the size of your entourage on this voyage." Her eyes once more scanned further down the beach.

"Aye," Captain Dulce replied grimly, shooting a glance at young William. "It seems the _Bride's_ not the only vessel who be seeking out the friendly waters of Captain Swann's harbor," he said cryptically, eyes following Elizabeth's gaze.

Her eyes shot back to the pirate's. "It's hardly my harbor," Elizabeth allowed herself an ironic smile that undermined her denial. "But I'm still not sure I understand what you mean - is there a threat I should know about?" she asked.

Captain Dulce searched Elizabeth's eyes seriously, and William thought he could see the fear hidden just behind the pirate's camaraderie. "It be nigh on ten years since that husband of yours took on the mantle of responsibility for the _Dutchman_, and the souls of those lost to the seas," he began slowly, with another cautious glance at William. "Knowing Captain Swann's sterling character, it appears to be the consensus that a replacement for the good Captain Turner will be becoming a necessity in due time. And not knowing how the passing of said mantle will come about…"

"Everyone's coming here," Elizabeth finished. "Did it not occur to anyone that, as I and his son are here, that Port Royal might be the very last place to look for safety?" The smile twisting her lips with humor did not quite reach her wary eyes.

A bellowing laugh burst from Captain Dulce. "I can't be saying for the rest of these dogs, my lady, but on me own behalf, I'll owe that I was gambling on Your Grace, and our… shall we say, acquaintance, to keep me out of harm's way."

A real smile lit Elizabeth's face this time, and her seeking glance finally settled on Dulce's sparkling, yet troubled eyes. "Would that the decision were in my hands, Captain, your safety would be most assuredly preserved." Saying her goodbyes, Elizabeth gently tugged on her son's hand and led him to a likely spot for them to hold Court - where they could be easily seen and recognized by all.

It was not long before men from the collection of ships began making their way towards his mother, but William did not hurry off as he normally would. He sensed, both from his mother's demeanor and the conversation between her and Captain Dulce, that it would be best to wait for a bit before taking off as he would like to.

The needs of the pirates were little different from those of the tradesmen they'd spent the afternoon with, only greater in necessity. William watched his mother clean and stitch a festering wound on one man's arm, scolding the pirate all the while, telling to at least attempt to clean the thing frequently, unless he'd prefer her to amputate it the next time. The vile smelling man glared at her with a look that would have reduced lesser men than his mother to tears, but then winced as she severed the thick thread holding his skin together with her teeth and a firm tug. The other men waiting their turn laughed.

Though anxious to go exploring beyond the range of his mother, William was not bored by her side. When not watching her nimble fingers attend to a barrage of maladies, or listening to her stern instructions on further treatment, the boy was, as usual, the center of attention and an object of great interest to the other pirates nearby. Those who had met him before were familiar with his entrancement with the sea, and found in him an eager ear for their stories. William occasionally received an exotic trinket from them, brought from lands he somehow knew he's see someday.

Those who had only heard tell of the son of Captain's Turner and Swann from other pirates, were often eager to meet the boy who they seem to think embodied the very spirit that had sent them into the arms of the sea so long ago. He did not know it, but he already had the reputation of a young prince among pirates, and stories of the adventures he'd not yet even dreamed of taking were often whispered in the drunken hours on Tortuga or other such havens, as though he were a kind of messiah to their tribe.

It was not too much later that a glance and a small nod from his mother freed him from her watchful eye, and William escaped swiftly down to the shore to watch the pirate crew's work. Their laughter and muttered oaths colored the air, and though he was too small to help with such arduous tasks as the older men were engaged with, he allowed himself to daydream that one of them would notice in his something no one else had; something that would make him not just the son of a pirate king, but a pirate in his own right.

Recognizing one of the pirates taking a moment's rest nearby, William moved to join him near the water's edge when something shiny caught his attention from the rocks edging the cove beyond. Focusing his gaze on that distant place, he could see nothing that would have caused such a flash of light, but curiosity drew him in that direction. Though it had been many years since anything of value had been drawn from the belly of these caves, they had not been named the Diamond's for nothing.

Walking near the shore where water had made the sand firmer, and therefore easier to walk upon, William hurried towards the rocks, remembering to be cautious in his approach only as he began climbing over the jagged edges of the first few stones along the border. Finding a stick that looked to have once been used as a torch by previous visitors, William took it in hand as a weapon, just in case one proved to be needed.

Finding a level surface upon which to edge around the corner of the outcropping, William pressed his stomach close to the rock face, feeling the cold scrape of it against his belly through his shirt. He briefly imagined his mother's face when she say the condition he would be in after this adventure, and he only hoped that he'd find something in his explorations to make the risk worth while.

The toe of William's boot struck rock as the ledge he'd been sliding along ended, and risking a look down and behind him, William chanced to drop onto a rock just below. He landed on his feet, but one ankle twisted beneath the weight of his body, and he fell. Sputtering a word his mother would have punished him for saying had she heard it, William poked at the bone with his fingers, deciding with satisfaction and relief that it was not broken.

Before he could stand, a shadow passed over the boy, and William groped for the stick he'd been carrying before realizing he must have dropped it in the fall. Looking up, he tried to set his face into the expression that covered his mother's when he disobeyed her, and found instead that he needed to squint directly into the setting sun, which he was sure ruined the effect he was aiming for.

A pirate stood before him – William could guess that by the smell alone. The halo of the sun was just behind the man's head, obscuring his features from observation, but the boy could see that he was fit, moderately tall, with a tri-cornered hat covering his bandana adorned head. The man must have smiled because gold suddenly shone from where William expected his mouth would be. He was sure that this was not a man he'd met before, and a distinct wave of uncertainty fluttered through his belly as the man spoke.

"Well, well, well, and what would a lad such as yourself be doing out here all by his onesie?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

William narrowed his eyes at the pirate towering over him, hoping to convey courage instead of the fact that he was being blinded by the light of the setting sun. Pulling his injured foot beneath him and shoving off the rock onto his feet, William lunged for the fallen stick he'd carried as his weapon, wondering as his fingers slid between the rocks how long it would take for his mother to notice his absence and come looking for him.

A twinge of pain shot up his leg as the weakened ankle gave beneath his weight, and William cried out as his body slid horribly close to the edge of his perch above a huddle of dangerously sharp rocks at the water's edge below him. From above, an arm wrapped around William's waist and the boy found himself in the arms of the pirate with the unseen face.

"Careful, lad," the pirate said with a chuckle as William began to struggle. "The Locker's no place for a young lubber like yourself."

"Let me down, you scallywag!" William shouted, kicking his legs and twisting to get away. The stick in his hand found a tender place in the pirate's stomach and the two of them fell backwards onto the sand beyond the rocks with an explosive "oof" of breath.

Scrambling onto his knees and away from the pirate as best he could, William thrust his makeshift weapon forward as the larger man lifted himself up on his elbows. "Hold, you scurvy scum," William's voice shook as he spoke. "Or I'll run you through and send you to the Locker myself."

The pirate, whose face was now visible in the fading light, shifted his expression into one of concern to hide his amusement. "All right, lad. I mean you no harm. What say we put down our… weapons," a quick grin slipped over his lips but was gone again in a second, "and talk like the respectable tars we are."

William tried not to smile at being called a 'tar'. He continued to stare at the stranger unwaveringly, wondering frantically where his mother was and what she would do in this situation.

"Do we have an accord?" the pirate asked seriously.

William would have relented at those words alone – it was the language used between pirates, and even though he knew the man was humoring him, he was respectfully treating him like an equal. A child could ask for little more from an adult, and William knew enough about pirates to know when he was in danger from one. Before he could lower his arm though, the boy began to notice several things about his captive.

What had been invisible in the glare of the sun were a pair of chocolate-colored, kohl-lined lines and an array of colorful beads dangling among the matted dreds of his long dark hair and braided beard. William's arm fell to his side as he glanced at the pirate's dirty hands, looking for a few more features that would confirm his suspicions – a twist of lace around the wrist and a pale scar in the shape of the letter 'P'.

The pirate had gotten to his feet with a golden-toothed grin and began brushing sand off of his bottom with a meticulousness that would have been laughable in any other situation. "Well now," he began. "Now that we're all friendly like, why don't you tell me what…."

"You're Jack Sparrow," William said. It was not a question.

"_Captain_…" the pirate began, even as a disconcerted frown marred his face. With an unsteady sway to the action, Jack sunk on his haunches in front of the boy.

"Here now," he said slowly. "You seem to have me at a disadvantage. I know my reputation precedes me, but how would a young lad such as yourself be recognizing the likes of me?"

"I _knew_ it!" William broke into a wide smile. "You're Captain Jack Sparrow!"

Jack couldn't help but grin at the boy's excitement. "Aye, that I am."

"You knew my mother."

"Your mother, ay?" Jack's expression brightened, and then just as suddenly faded into an uncertain grimace. "Wait. You're not… um, that is to say, _I'm_ not… er," Jack peered closely at the boy's face. "What's your name, lad?"

"I'm William Turner, III," the boy said. He held out his hand to his parent's old friend quite formally, though with great excitement.

"Oh," Jack said with a sigh of evident relief. Then, "_Oh_!" as understanding swept over him. He scanned the boys face once more, recognition filling his eyes along with a few other emotions that William couldn't rightly name.

They were wasting time. "Come on!" William shouted, taking the hand that Jack had never offered in return and pulling the Captain back toward the rocks.

Jack only hesitated a moment before following after the boy. If he truly was who he said he was, and of that Jack had little doubt, then the last thing he needed was to let the lad go running off and hurting himself while in Jack's presence. The rocks were slippery beneath his already unsteady gait, and his feet were almost too large for the ledge young Turner used to ease around the tight corners.

"And, uh…" Jack began when he felt it safe to try for conversation. "Where might we be off _to_, precisely?" Sighing with relief once his feet touched dry sand again, Jack couldn't help staring at the child before him. He was the spitting image of his father, save for the light brown of his eyes. Something within him lurched unpleasantly, and he burped, tasting rum.

William gave him a look that Jack had not seen in nearly ten years, but on another, more feminine face. The boy pointed off into the distance of the beach, to a small circle of pirates standing away from the gathered ships Jack and his own crew had sought to avoid. "To see Mother, of course."

Mother. The word sent a wave of panic through Jack, but before he could react, the boy had taken hold of his hand again and was dragging him across the beach. Jack opened his mouth to protest but as he looked up, he saw the women he'd spent ten years trying to forget stalking towards them in a disturbingly familiar way.

"William Turner!" Elizabeth scolded as she fell to her knees before her son. Examining his torn shirt and dirty trousers, she scowled. "Just where did you run off to? I've been looking for you everywhere!"

"I was just climbing the rocks," William said hurriedly. He wasn't concerned about his mother's wrath in the face of such enormous news. "But guess who I…"

"The rocks? How many times have I… you know better than to run off by yourself, William." Her expression softened, but only slightly, as she noticed he was favoring one of his ankles. "You've hurt yourself too, haven't you? Oh, William…."

The boy sighed in frustration. "Mother," he interrupted her. "I'm all right… but look who found me!"

Elizabeth kept her eyes on her son, but addressed the man behind the boy, who was still clinging to William's hand. "Thank-you for keeping an eye on my son. He's usually very well behaved…" her voice trailed away as her eyes fell on a familiar emerald and gold ring with skulls carved into the band. Standing slowly, her eyes followed the arm up a faded blue coat sleeve, into dark, snarled hair, and ending in another pair of eyes that had not quite managed to fade in her memory.

"Hello, Love," Jack said softly.

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed and she shook her head, taking a step backwards. A hand fluttered first to her head, and then to her chest where it rested over her breast. Jack's eyes followed its movement and he grinned at it's landing. If nothing else, that convinced her of the moment's reality.

As a beaming William looked back and forth between his mother and the pirate of so many of his favorite legends, Elizabeth's eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped to the ground at their feet.

"Mother?" William said in confusion.

Jack only sighed. "S'all right, lad. I've been known to have that effect." Looking around at the crowd of pirates he put on his most Captainy scowl. "Don't you lot have better to do than stand about gaping like fishwives? Go on, shoo!" As the men around them jumped and scattered, Jack bent and lifted Elizabeth into his arms, ignoring the scent of jasmine that suddenly surrounded him. "Don't suppose you know a quick and private-ish route home, where an infamous pirate can carry off a lady without incurring damage to his person?"

William nodded. "Come on."

Trying not to think about the last time the boy had uttered those words, Jack did as the boy asked.

They talked little as they made their way out of the cove of Diamond Caves, back through the shallow water and away from the busy docks. Jack noticed that William stayed as far from the more populated areas as possible, and even avoided the town proper all together, choosing instead to trek up the weedy incline leading more directly, if not easily, towards the house on the cliff.

Leading Jack into the house and towards his mother's bedroom, William stopped suddenly when he realized the pirate wasn't following him any longer. Turning, William stared questioningly as Jack stood frozen in the doorway.

Jack entered the house slowly, as though expecting an ambush. To his left was the parlor and to his right, a sitting room complete with a pianoforte. William stood before him in the hallway and in response to the boy calling his name Jack attempted to grin. "Let's get your mum settled then, shall we?"

Elizabeth's bedroom was rich with the woman's scent, and Jack took a moment to look around as he followed William inside. It was a decidedly unfeminine room, he thought. It was decorated in deep blues and whites, and paintings of ships on rolling seas adorned the walls. Above the bed hung a matched set of oriental swords. Jack smiled. It was perfect.

As Jack lay her down on the thick blue cotton quilt, Elizabeth gave a soft moan, and he could have sworn he heard her say his name. He stilled, leaning over her, but she was quiet again. Sighing, Jack stood up to find William watching him.

"Erm… your mother wouldn't, by any chance, have changed her views on rum enough to keep a bottle lying about? For emergency purposes?"

William scrunched up his nose in thought for a moment before his eyes brightened and he ran from the room.

Pleasantly surprised and suddenly hopeful, Jack followed him out into the hallway, through the sitting room and dining room into the kitchen. In one of the cabinets, high enough up for William to need a stool to see into it, the boy began digging though a collection of herbs, bandages, and other surgical supplies. Reaching as far back into the cupboard as his arm would allow, William emerged with a nearly full bottle of Port Royal's finest rum.

"I think there's another bottle here too," William said, peering back into the darkness. "She keeps it here for when one of the pirates is hurt bad, then…"

"I understand… medicinal purposes only, right Mate?" He relieved William of his prize with one hand while the other reached past him into the cupboard in search of the second bottle. "Well, it seems to me that this is precisely the type of situation that would call for the use of such drastic measures."

William hopped off the stool and followed Jack back into the sitting room. "Do you think mother's hurt that badly?" he asked.

Jack looked affronted. "Rum's not for her, Mate. No, no, no… bloody wasteful." Flinging himself around, Jack fell onto a settee and pulled the cork from the bottle of rum. "No lad – the rum's for me."

"Oh." William looked confused, but he waited until Jack had taken a large swig of the alcohol before he asked, "but, you're not hurt, are you?"

"Oh, aye – that I am, Matey." He put on his most sincere face. "But don't you worry m'boy – a few doses of this," he held up the slightly emptier bottle, "and Bob's-your-uncle, Fanny's-your-aunt… I'll be right as rain."

Jack studied William as the child sat across from him in an overly large chair. Elizabeth and Will's son… it had never occurred to him. Though of course, he'd known – there'd been that _one,_ solitary day before Will had been forced to sail off again to do his duty. Jack had just never even considered the possibility that a child would result from their first and only union…. The very idea made him uncomfortable, and he racked his brain for something, _anything_, to say to the boy to erase the images now plaguing his mind.

William beat him to the punch. "Can you tell me about my mother?"

Jack opened and closed his mouth a few times before answering. "I gather she must have told you a fair bit about herself already," he answered. "I don't know as there's much more I could add."

William nodded. "She's told me everything," he said, excitement coloring the words. "At least, I think so. But was she really a pirate lord? _the_ King of the Pirates? Did you ever see her kill anyone?"

As the questions kept pouring out of young William, Jack felt himself begin to relax. He seemed to know enough of the details about his parent's travels with the _Pearl_ that Jack didn't fear revealing something he shouldn't. It also appeared that William needed to hear some kind of confirmation of his mother's greatness, as if it all seemed too incredible for a nine-year-old to believe that the woman who scolded him for getting his clothes muddy, was the same woman who'd led a motley crew of pirate ships against the entire East India Trading Company, and won.

Jack brushed over the fact that William hadn't even mentioned his father yet.

"Did she ever tell you about the time I saved her life?" Jack asked.

"Yes," William answered honestly. "But I want to hear it from you… all of it."

Jack grinned. There was nothing he liked better than a captive audience eager to listen to him spin his best yarns. He flung his legs up onto the furniture to make himself more comfortable and began to talk.

William was a good audience, made even better because he seemed to have heard all of the stories before and knew just the right places to be excited, scared, or ask questions. Jack found himself talking more than he had in a good long while, charmed by the boy's laughter and absolute lack of discomfort in the presence of a virtual stranger, and a pirate at that.

As he discharged his tale, Jack was able to glean a bit of information from William in return, as to what Elizabeth had been doing in his and Will's absence. He learned only bits and pieces, but the most important to him was the fact that William had grown up knowing his name and legend just as well as his father's – an idea that pleased him.

"'Abandon ship!' I announced, and as the crew began falling out into the longboats, your mother managed to get me to one side and shackled me to the mast…"

"That's not right," William interrupted.

Jack paused, mid-sentence. He raised an eyebrow. "It isn't?"

William was frowning in contemplation and he shook his head. "Not exactly… she told me… she said that she told you, you were a good man for coming back, and then she kissed you."

Jack was intrigued. "She told you that, ay? Then what happened?"

William shifted comfortably in his seat, warming up to the change in roles from listener to narrator. His eyes drifted closed and he smiled. "Yes, she kissed you – and you kissed her back – long enough for her to back you towards the mast where she shackled you, because the Kraken wasn't coming for the ship or the crew, it just wanted you." He opened his eyes and studies Jack thoughtfully. "She said she wasn't sorry for it, and then you called her 'pirate,' and you were smiling the whole time, like you were proud of her for killing you."

Jack nodded. " Was proud. T'was the most piratical thing she'd ever done. Tricked me good and proper, too. Couldn't have done it better meself."

William eyed him. "Weren't you mad though? That she left you for the monster?"

"Not at the moment," Jack divulged without a moment of thought. "Surprised maybe. Later I was a mite perturbed with the lass, but…" he shrugged. "It all worked out in the end, didn't it? Here I am, decidedly _not_ dead – 've got me rum, got me ship, and best of all, I've got a nice new souvenir for me troubles." Leaning forward, Jack drew one of his braids to the front and held up the length of beads and gee-gaws attached to it.

Hanging from the end, was a five-inch long tooth.

"Wow!" William's eyes widened. "Is that from the Kraken? How'd you get it?"

Jack smiled and nodded the affirmative. "T'was the smallest one the beastie had in its whole mouth. After your mum and the rest so kindly fetched me back from the Locker," amusement flashed in his eyes, "we found the creature lying dead on a beach. When I had a moment to me lonesome, I crept up on the thing and," Jack made a yanking motion with his hands before smoothing his hair away from his face and settling back against the settee again.

Eyes gleaming with renewed admiration, William crossed from his chair to sit in the suddenly surprised pirates lap to examine the other adornments in his hair. "Where are the rest of these from?" he asked.

"Um," Jack moved his arms awkwardly, not sure where to put them.

"What's this one?" William held up a bead that looked to be carved out of some dark wood, for Jack to see.

Jack squinted at it. "Got that one in Morocco," he said. "Was made for me personally by the Sultan's daughter."

"Really?" William asked, voice heavy with skepticism. "The Sultan's daughter?"

"Absolutely," Jack insisted. "I was hiding in the Sultan's garden when I met her. Very lovely eyes, she had."

"Why were you hiding in her garden?"

Jack held up his hand, showing off a golden ring in the shape of a rose. "I'd been wooing a lovely Spanish lady… a lovely, _married_ Spanish lady, savvy? And when her husband arrived home much earlier than expected…" the pirate grinned, flourishing the bejeweled hand. "I took with me this little souvenir. Naturally, the gentleman took offense…"

"I wonder… did he take offense at the theft of the ring, or his wife's virtue?" A voice from the hallway interrupted.

William was up and across the room in an instant, asking his mother if she was alright. Jack remained in his seat, maintaining his leisurely posture as his eyes met Elizabeth's. He was pleased to see that although her tone had been mildly scornful, her eyes twinkled with laughter and she couldn't quite hide the smile that ghosted over her lips.

"Her virtue was in question long before I got there, Love," Jack responded, folding his arms behind his head. "Seems as though the ring was the bigger loss."

"Be that as it may, I'm not sure I want my son hearing stories of your debauchery," Elizabeth mussed William's hair and took his hand for him to lead her into the room.

"We were just talking about pirate things, Mother," William said.

Jack nodded in agreement. "The lad speaks true. You've got a right smart pirate for a son, Lizzie, Love. But then," his grin widened. "I wouldn't have expected anything less."

Elizabeth asked William if he would start tea for them, waiting until he'd left the room before meeting Jack's eyes again. "Jack… why are you here?"

"And 'hello' to you too," he said. "I've been well, thank-you, and I can see you've been… busy," Jack took his legs off of the furniture, crossing one over the other in front of him. "I was just in the neighborhood, and I thought to meself, 'self! Why not drop in on dear old Lizzie and see how she's…"

"Jack," Elizabeth growled in frustration. "It's been… nearly ten years, and you…"

"I… what, Lizzie?" Jack leaned forward tauntingly.

She stared at him. Standing up, Elizabeth began to pace. She gave a short laugh, and Jack was startled to hear suppressed tears in her voice. "Ten years," she began softly. "I used to wonder when you'd show up again. _If_ you ever would – after all, I did leave you for dead."

"In the past, Love…"

"Yes, Jack, in the past," she stopped his interruption. "And you never came, and I so missed the ocean, and there was no one… no where I could go – you understand?" She looked up to see if he nodded and continued when he did. "And then there was William," her face lost a little of its perplexity. "There was just William, and I came home to Port Royal, not knowing if I'd be remembered as the pirate daughter of Weatherby Swann, but there was no where else…."

She sat again, looking at him with wide eyes. "We're safe here, William and I. My father's ghost doesn't linger over us, and the truth about Will's duty is safely guarded. When he comes home…" her voice caught, and she closed her eyes for a moment. "In just a few days, Will comes home, and then we can have what we fought for, do you see?"

Jack thought he did see, and he thought furiously for something he could say to forestall the inevitable. "Elizabeth," he tried jovially. "I'm just here too…"

"Yes, Jack." Elizabeth interrupted firmly. "You're just here."

She was asking him to leave. Jack knew it, although he wasn't quite sure he had followed her reasoning. It had been foolish of him to come, he knew it, but even as he made the decision to go and never look back, something kept him glued to the chair. Elizabeth continued to stare at him, tears now freely sliding down her cheeks, and Jack could read the confusion in them as clearly as if she had begged him to stay even as she pushed him out the door.

And at that moment, the house's front door opened, admitting a small, elderly woman dressed in black. "Elizabeth?" the woman called, peering into the sitting room. "Oh, you have company! Who's that with you now, then?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Jack sprang to his feet while still trying to look casual. He shot a glance at Elizabeth, as if seeking instructions.

To his great relief, she had some. "Don't get too close… she's blind as bat. Maybe she won't notice you're a pirate if she can't smell you."

Sneering a fake smile at her jab, Jack nevertheless obeyed, hanging behind as Elizabeth greeted her unexpected guest.

"Mrs. Ellis! How delightful to see you again. Did you leave something this afternoon?" Elizabeth purposefully stepped between the woman and Jack, taking the older woman's hands in hers.

"Why yes, silly me," Mrs. Ellis said, momentarily distracted. "Mr. Ellis and I were headed home and we saw the light still on." She peeked over Elizabeth's shoulder. "I left my sewing hoop here. I wouldn't have bothered to disturb you if it wasn't for my daughter's wedding being only just around the corner, and I simply must finish her dress."

"Of course, I understand. William will fetch it for you," Elizabeth called for her son.

A moment of awkward silence fell, and Elizabeth twisted the sleeve of her dress nervously.

Mrs. Ellis smiled in Jack's general direction, unaware of the tension in the room. "Forgive my intrusion, young man," she said, as if it weren't scandalous for a married woman to be entertaining someone who was not her husband.

Elizabeth started. "Oh! It's no intrusion. This is…"

"Uncle Jack!" William ran into the room, running straight to Jack instead of his mother.

Elizabeth's mouth dropped in shock, but she recovered quickly enough that Mrs. Ellis noticed nothing. "Yes! This is William's Uncle, Jack -"

"Swann!" Jack interrupted. Bending slightly, he lifted William into his arms, balancing him on one hip and moving closer to Elizabeth. He threw his free arm around her shoulder, although still a step or two behind so as not to be too close to the near-sighted old woman. "Jackson Swann. I arrived in port today, just in time to welcome my prodigal brother-in-law home from his voyage."

Mrs. Ellis' face lit up. "Oh, Elizabeth! I'd forgotten you had a brother. Jackson… now I remember. A sailor like your father Weatherby, am I right? Yes," she said. "It's been quite a long time since you've returned to Port Royal. I hope you'll be staying long?"

Jack tried not to let the confusion show on his face. "Erm, well… that all depends on the tide," he finally said. "Can't say for sure just when I'll be shov-, er, sailing again."

"Yes, I remember what it was like; my husband was a sailor for nearly fifty years, and no matter how many times he promised to settle in, the sea always called him back again," Mrs. Ellis chuckled. "Well, I'll let you three get back to catching up, if I could just get that hoop…"

Elizabeth recovered herself. "Yes, of course. Come this way and I'll fetch it for you."

Alone again, William looked at Jack, grinning widely. "I just saved you, didn't I?"

Jack couldn't help grinning back. "Aye, that ye did, Lad. I said you were a right clever little pirate." He put the boy down and made a sloppy bow. "I am in your debt."

William positively wriggled with glee. "And now you'll have to stay… at least until Father returns."

Jack's smile froze on his face, but he couldn't find it in him to dampen the boy's enthusiasm. "Won't that be nice."

Hurriedly but politely showing Mrs. Ellis to the door, Elizabeth leaned back against the portal, closing her eyes and sighing with relief.

Jack spoke first. "How can the woman be sewing her daughter's wedding gown if she's blind as a bat?"

Elizabeth opened her eyes but did not move from the door. She looked at Jack as though sizing him up before answering. "She can see close up – she's fabulous with detail work, but everything else is a blur."

Jack didn't answer – he was unsettled by the way Elizabeth was staring at him.

"Mother! Can Jack sleep in my room?" William asked, tugging at the waist of her dress.

Jack smiled, but didn't take his eyes off Elizabeth. "I'm afraid your mum… and I," he added quickly, although perversely aware of how paternal it sounded, "were thinking it might be best if I were on me way, Lad."

Elizabeth still said nothing, continuing to stare at Jack. William looked between Jack and his mother. "But now you have to stay – he _has_ to, Mother," he said. "Mrs. Ellis thinks your brother's here to see Father come home. It would ruin everything if he left now!"

Jack frowned, remembering something. "And why is it that she remembers your handsome brother, 'Jackson'," he asked, "when you and I just met the chap mere moments ago?"

Elizabeth's laugh erupted in a short, distracted burst of air. "She knew my father long ago… the only person in my current acquaintance who did," Elizabeth said. "But her memory is as infamously bad as her vision – I could convince her I had a daughter instead of a son, if I had to." 

"But no one else knew Grandfather, or Mother, before she left with you," William explained with bright eyes. "No one would know you weren't my Uncle Jack, and Mother," he added, thinking fast. "If Jack stays, he can help us get the house ready for Father!"

Jack didn't think he liked the sound of that very much, but something inside him wanted to stay badly enough that he didn't think to protest. He looked at Elizabeth and added softly, "He has a point – and it's only two days, Love."

With both men staring at her expectantly, Elizabeth looked at them each in turn. William's large eyes were hopeful, and she was a little surprised, although only a little, to discover that sending Jack away would hurt her son more deeply than she ever would intentionally choose to. He'd taken to Jack so quickly, a part of her knew he was bound to see the older man as a father figure.

Still, it would be good to have someone around for William to talk to – even if it was Jack Sparrow. William was such a solitary child, with so many family secrets; maybe Jack could impart to her son some of his natural _joie de vivre_ – neither she, nor Will had it like Jack did.

It was at last, in Jack eyes, that Elizabeth found her decision, though she knew she would question her judgment every moment thereafter. In his eyes she saw fear – he was afraid she would send him away, and she didn't understand that. He _wanted_ to stay, and for a blinding moment of what felt like insanity, she wanted him there just as badly.

Pulling in a deep breath, Elizabeth finally spoke, looking steadily at Jack. "You'll have to behave yourself – act the part of a respectable sailor." When he didn't immediately answer, she added. "It's a lot to ask – but I have the reputation of myself and William to protect. If you can't, or aren't willing, it'd be better to risk awkward questions than chance the disruption of our lives."

Jack answered easily, as though he didn't need to think about his decision. "Contrary to certain viewpoints about my person, Love," he grinned, "I was not always the dashing and debonair pirate captain you see before you." Feigning disinterest, he wandered over to a nearby bookcase and picked up a small bottle with a ship in it from the shelf, turning it to peer into the open neck at the miniature vessel. "Once upon a time, yours truly was a dashing and debonair merchant seaman… captain," he said with nonchalance.

Elizabeth went and took the bottle from his unsteady hands, replacing it gently on the shelf. "You were not, Jack."

Jack's left eyebrow arched high into his bandana. "Oh no? And how do you think I came into the acquaintance of one, Cutler Beckett? I didn't stand in line to get this little pretty," he said, indicating the 'P' shaped scar on his forearm.

Elizabeth frowned, searching for the lie in Jack's face, eyes widening when she didn't find one. "You're perfectly serious!" she exclaimed softly.

Jack gave a mock sigh. "Yes, love, it's true. I was once in the employ of the East India Trading Company. That is," he added, "until I no longer found the job to be to my satisfaction." Jack lowered his voice. "I hope this doesn't lessen your opinion of me, Lizzie."

"Not enough gold in honest sailing, Jack?" Elizabeth tried to joke, but even to her ears, it fell flat. She was still stunned by this new revelation.

The expression on Jack's face changed ever so slightly from humorous to pained. "That, my dear, I'm afraid, is a story for another, less rum-free occasion."

She could see that he meant it, and as much as Elizabeth wanted to demand he answer the many questions suddenly popping into her head, she decided to let it be for now. "Well then, as it's settled that you'll be staying with us for a few days, I suggest that we make you look more… presentable."

Jack paused in his wanderings about the room, and turned slowly to look at Elizabeth. "What exactly did you have in mind, Love?"

"A bath, to start," she answered, ignoring the sudden pallor of Jack's face. "Then we'll have to do something about your clothes, and your hair." She paused, making a face. "And that breath."

Jack looked as though he wanted to protest, but wasn't sure which atrocity to take on first. Before he could do more than open his mouth, William grabbed his hand.

"Come on, Jack! I know where we have some of Father's things!"

Seeing once more the unrelenting steeliness of Elizabeth's gaze, Jack shuddered and sighed. Allowing himself to be dragged from the room, Jack dared to wonder just how bad it would get before he began to regret deciding to stay.

As it happened, it didn't take very long at all before Jack Sparrow was cursing Gibbs for making him look into his bloody compass and follow the heading straight into Hell. It had to be Hell – there was even steam, although it was coming from a tub full of scalding hot water.

Deciding that, if he was going to be forced into a tub for the first time in who knew how many years, he certainly wasn't going to lift a finger to speed up the process. Undaunted, Elizabeth filled and heated bucket after bucket of water for Jack's bath while the pirate sat by, determinedly ignoring her exertions.

From a chest at the foot of Elizabeth's bed, William pulled a white linen shirt, woolen trousers and short coat in a beige color that reminded Jack of the coral reefs near the islands, stockings, shoes with squared-toes and small brass buckles, and at last, a brown knit cap. They had been using some of the extra money Elizabeth had earned from her medical practices to buy and store clothing for Will to have on his return. The thought was so miserable to Jack that it was the only thing he made no complaint about.

Handing him a caustic smelling bar of soap, Elizabeth pushed Jack into the relative privacy of the kitchen where the steaming bath awaited. Putting Will's new clothing on a wooden chair nearby, she left without another word.

Almost. At the last moment, she turned to Jack again. "Don't forget to wash your hair, too."

Jack stared at her back as she quickly left for the adjoining room. "My _hair_?" he shouted after her, but got no response. Grumbling, Jack set the soap near the tub and began to undress.

He couldn't even remember the last time he'd taken off the bandana covering his scalp, let alone the last time he'd gotten completely naked. Pirates worked and slept in their clothing most of the time, and the last time he'd visited Tortuga… well, even if he had gone to see Giselle or Scarlett, there usually wasn't the need to remove everything.

Standing nude before the tub, Jack stared at the water for several long moments before daintily lifting a leg and breaking the surface of the bath with his toe. It was hot. Sucking in air through his teeth, Jack braced himself with eyes scrunched tight before thrusting first one leg, then the other into the tub.

Having gotten that far, he sat down before he could change his mind. There. That wasn't so bad. Proud of his accomplishment, Jack sat for a moment, not doing anything as he allowed his body to adjust to the temperature of the water.

He was just contemplating picking up the soap when something crashed to the floor behind him. Jack sprang from the tub, attempting to leap over the side towards his gun, which he'd set near him on the floor. Catching a foot on the edge of the basin, Jack crashed to the floor with his legs still dangling up over the side and into the water. Snatching up his gun, Jack aimed it shakily towards the door.

William stood near the wooden block in the center of the kitchen, staring at Jack sprawled half in and out of the tub. A metal bowl lay right side up on the floor at his feet where he'd dropped it and rose petals were scattered everywhere. Within moments his surprise turned to amusement, and the boy broke into gales of laughter that made Jack drop his head to the floor in relief and embarrassment.

"What in the world… oh, God…" Elizabeth took one look at the scene in her kitchen and left in a hurry, trying to burn the image of Jack's naked and oh-so-prominently displayed backside from her mind. As long as no one was dead, she felt it best to leave the situation well enough alone.

Jack groaned as he listened to Elizabeth's swift entrance and exit, and struggled to right himself and restore some of his dignity – an act made difficult by the giggling child staring at him.

"Ha, bloody ha-ha," Jack grumbled as the boy wiped the tears from his face and began cleaning up the mess on the floor. "If you were on me crew you'd be keelhauled for that."

Will looked up excitedly. "_Can_ I be on your crew, Uncle Jack?"

Jack blinked at the honorific, but didn't say anything about it. William amused him. "Aye, lad – I'll make you my powder monkey."

"Powder monkey?" William complained.

Jack nodded. "t'is an important job – and much better than being a cabin boy. Trust me."

William nodded, but looked discouraged. "Mother sent me in to remind you about your hair. Oh, and to give you these." He tipped the now re-filled bowl of flower petals into Jack's bath water.

Jack wrinkled his nose, recoiling slightly from the delicate red flotilla. "What are they?" he asked uncertainly.

"Rose petals," William said, picking one up and rubbing it between his fingers. "You're supposed to scrub with them."

Jack eyed them suspiciously. "I've already got the soap, what do I need these for?"

William shrugged. "They make you smell good."

"Womanly," Jack corrected, but he remembered the scent of jasmine that had surrounded him when he'd carried Elizabeth from the beach earlier. Sighing deeply to show his injury, Jack grabbed the soap from where it still sat and began scrubbing years of dirt and salt water from his flesh.

It was a lengthy process, and the water soon turned a murky brown. The smell of the soap stung his nose, and he found himself glad of the rose petals to sooth the bitter odor. Finally deeming himself clean, Jack began to stand up.

William put a hand on his wrist to stop him, shaking his head. "Hair," he reminded firmly.

"Hair?" Jack echoed weakly.

William mimicked his mother's grimmest expression. "Hair."

It was pointless to sigh any more, but Jack did it anyway. It didn't make him feel any better, and he began undoing the various knots around his head. Starting with the large braid in back and then the smaller one on the side, Jack then moved on to the bits of ribbon tied in here and there, then the leather cords that wove the beads and things into the mixture. Last of all he removed the bone marlinspike and the twine holding it in place against his scalp. Finally, all that remained were the twenty dreadlocks, ten on each side of his head, and a small pile of adornments on the floor by his clothes.

William watched the process in silence and then examined the results quietly as Jack again pick up the soap and began washing the oil and dirt from the straight lengths of his dark hair. The dreadlocks he left untouched.

Running from the room a moment later, William returned just as Jack began to rinse thought his hair one last time and handed the pirate a comb. Jack put it aside for the moment.

Looking to William finally for approval, Jack again rose from the tub and stepped out, picking up his soiled shirt to dry himself with.

Again William leapt to his feet, this time taking away Jack's old shirt and replacing it with a clean dishcloth. Jack scowled, but said nothing.

Silently, Jack began to dress in the clothing bought for Will, but did not put on the brown knit cap. Gesturing to William, who took the lead, Jack went in search of Elizabeth.

She was sitting on the bench of the pianoforte, hands pressed against her knees, and she stood when she saw them. Elizabeth looked surprised by Jack appearance, and he wondered if she was more surprised by how he looked or that he had obeyed her with so little fuss.

Going to him, Elizabeth lifted a segment of Jack's still damp hair, eyeing the dreadlocks critically, like a dressmaker deciding between fabrics. "I don't suppose these can be removed?"

Jack shook his head with a slight grin. "I'm not cutting them, and it would take more time than we have just to get one out, let alone twenty."

Elizabeth lifted one matted segment thoughtfully. "I suppose they'll be alright then, as long as you tie your hair back. It's not a bad effect." Stepping slightly closer, Elizabeth's hand lifted automatically to run her thumb beneath his eye to erase a stray line of kohl that had run. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a gentleman, Captain Sparrow."

She was close. She was so close, and she was touching him. Jack could smell the sweetness of flowers hovering around her, and realized she must have bathed recently too. Reaching up, he grabbed Elizabeth's wrist just as she began withdrawing her hand. Their eyes met.

"I'm not," he whispered in a thick low voice.

Elizabeth's eyes fluttered low, nearly closing as she swayed a bit nearer to him. She realized she was staring at Jack's lips, which suddenly parted.

"Breath," Elizabeth exhaled quickly, pulling slightly away. She blushed, and cursed herself for it. "We've got to do something about your breath," she finished.

Turning around at top speed, Elizabeth returned to the kitchen with William, and then Jack following behind. Opening the cupboard where she stored her medical supplies, Elizabeth buried her warm face in the darkness until she felt better. She returned to the wooden block in the middle of the room with a round canister in one hand and some cloth in the other.

Tearing a strip from the cloth, Elizabeth handed Jack the small segment, avoiding his gaze and his touch in the exchange. Opening the canister, she held it between herself and the pirate. "Put some of this on the cloth and rub your teeth with it. That should help to start with."

Jack took the cloth without comment, eyes lingering on Elizabeth as she struggled to compose herself. He was delighted to see that he had had an effect on her. Absently taking some of the white powder from the proffered canister, he stuck the substance into his mouth.

And immediately spit it back out. "What is this?" he demanded.

Relieved to be rid of the intensity of his gaze, Elizabeth regained her stern demeanor. "Bicarbonate of soda," she replied. "It cleans the teeth."

"Taste's like sh- uh," he threw a glance at William. "Like – really bad eggs," he improvised.

Elizabeth held out the canister to him again. "Drink up, me hearty."

The two faced each other unwaveringly for a few moments. Finally, Elizabeth made a frustrated sound and tore two more strips from the cloth, handing one to William. "Fine. We'll do it first." Giving some of the bicarbonate of soda to her son and taking some herself, Elizabeth continued to stare at Jack confrontationally as she scrubbed at her teeth.

Jack watched, fascinated by the sight of Elizabeth's finger working inside of her mouth against the rigged planes of her teeth. He'd thought of an idea. Looking at William, Jack asked, "she make you do this often?"

William took his finger out of his mouth, nodding his head. "All the time," he complained, trying to talk around the foul-tasting grit.

Elizabeth finished her cleaning. "Only as necessary," she corrected after rinsing her mouth with water and spitting into an empty bowl. "It's much better than having them pulled out of our mouth's, isn't it, William?"

William didn't look convinced, but he didn't dare argue. "Yes, Ma'am," he said dutifully.

Elizabeth nodded at Jack again. "All right, now you."

Leaning back against the wooden block, Jack crossed his arms and legs, smiling. "No love, I don't think so."

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. "Jack, you promised-"

"To be presentable," Jack interrupted her. "I don't see what that has to do with me breath."

"Just speak in the general direction of another person Jack, and you'll knock them over," Elizabeth was angry. "I'll do it myself, if you don't," she threatened, as Jack knew she would.

Jack's grin widened. Elizabeth took the remaining cloth in hand and took another pinch of bicarbonate of soda, watching him threatening.

Jack opened his mouth to give a witty retort when she surprised him by not giving him another opportunity to speak. The minute his mouth was open Elizabeth jammed her finger inside, fighting the retreat of his head in an attempt to clean his teeth.

Recovering from his surprise, Jack again grabbed Elizabeth's wrist so that she couldn't escape. Eyes never leaving hers, Jack managed to close his lips around her finger, gently maneuvering his tongue into a position where it could wrap around the invading digit in his mouth.

The light brown of Elizabeth's eyes darkened for a moment. Then she jerked her hand away from him, leaving the cloth dangling from Jack's lips. "Finish, please," she said quietly. "I'm going to put William to bed.

Jack smiled as he watched Elizabeth dragged her disappointed son from the room. He'd seen the look in her eyes. She'd reacted. It had gone better than he could have hoped. Finishing with his teeth and rinsing, Jack spied a few stray rose petals on the floor near his feet, and he quickly picked them up and stuck them in his mouth, chewing fervently. They tasted horrible, but he knew it would improve the quality of his breath.

Elizabeth returned with a handmade quilt, giving it to Jack without comment. He took it, following her into the sitting room.

"You may sleep in here," Elizabeth made a gesture in the direction of the settee. "I'm going to bed as well. Good-night, Jack."

He continued to follow her down the hallway to her room where she turned to face him, one hand on each of the two doors that framed the entrance to her boudoir. "And before you ask," she said, "no, you may not," and with that, she shut the doors gently in his face.

Jack only grinned, returning to the sitting room. He found himself actually looking forward to the next day.

For her part, Elizabeth stared at the ceiling for a while before curling onto her side and burying her face into her pillow. "Damn you, Jack Sparrow," and in her head she heard him tease softly, _"Captain…."_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

When Jack woke, he found himself surrounded by a thin bright light that made him groan in pain. He squeezed his eyes more tightly shut and blindly groped around for the bottle of rum he always kept beside his bunk.

Instead, his hand fell on a mess of hair, and Jack's eyes shot open in surprise and confusion. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the amount of sun coming in through the thinly curtained windows of Elizabeth's sitting room, but it was enough time for Jack to remember where he was. Looking down at the floor beside the settee on which he had slept, he found William curled up in a brown quilt on the rug.

The boy was waking slowly from Jack's touch, and a light brown pair of eyes blinked sleepily up at him. Jack smirked. "Morning, Mate, sleep well?"

William nodded and his eyes fell closed again. "I was afraid you'd leave," he mumbled.

Jack's smile vanished. It both touched and worried him that William was so concerned. It would make it that much more difficult when he eventually had to leave – assuming he would have to. He had all of today and till sundown tomorrow before Will returned to his family, and Jack was nowhere near ready to admit defeat with Elizabeth.

Both Jack and William were mostly upright when Elizabeth entered the sitting room, fully dressed. She was moving quickly and seemed frantic, but she stopped suddenly when she saw her son on the floor, slumped in a drowse against the side of the settee. "William," she breathed, relieved. She looked at his quilt. "Did you sleep in here?"

William nodded again, slowly getting to his feet and going to give his mother a hug. She returned it fiercely. "Go on to the kitchen then," Elizabeth said finally. "I'll be along to fix breakfast."

She didn't look at Jack until her son had disappeared into the next room. "Morning, Jack," she said finally.

Her tone was warm, but matter-of-fact, as though she were setting boundaries. Jack grinned. He loved boundaries… specifically, the crossing of them. Lurching awkwardly to his feet, Jack was across the room so quickly that Elizabeth blinked. He always stood well within another person's personal space – it threw them – but he was so close to Elizabeth that another step forward and he'd be on top of her. Which wasn't a bad thought, either.

Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat as Jack took her small hand in his and pulled it towards his mouth. Never taking his twinkling eyes off her wide ones, he placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand before turning it over and placing a second in her palm. "Morning, love," he chuckled.

He'd disappeared into the kitchen before Elizabeth had recovered enough to get angry. Growling shortly, she began stomping towards the kitchen to tell him off for his impertinence when a brisk knock at the door made her stomach flutter. She'd expected a response to Jack appearance from the neighbors but they'd rallied a lot sooner than she'd thought.

Composing herself, Elizabeth prayed silently as she went to open the door. Her suspicions were, of course, correct. Standing on her porch were all of the women from her sewing circle and then some. Mrs. Ellis stood cheerfully to one side of her doorway with – to Elizabeth's dismay - Mrs. Emily Ralston on the other. Behind them, Mrs. Jenson stood smiling with her seventeen year-old, unmarried daughter, along with Mrs. Marks, who had brought her sister, Mrs. Webb.

Elizabeth smiled at the six women. "Good morning," she greeted them.

"Morning, dear," Mrs. Ellis seemed to be spokeswoman. "Please forgive us, but I mentioned to Emily that your brother had returned and she thought up the marvelous idea to come and welcome him properly." Despite her words, Elizabeth could see in her eyes that she felt guilty for the invasion. The corner of Elizabeth's mouth twitched in amusement.

Mrs. Ralston however, was oblivious. "Yes… it's not often that one of own returns, and with your Will coming so soon we thought you might appreciate a few good meals… and it would give us a change to meet your brother." Her eyes darted over Elizabeth's shoulder as if hoping to catch a glimpse of Jack. "I don't remember you saying anything about him – where has he been?"

"The East, mostly," Jack answered, appearing behind Elizabeth and opening the door wider. "Lots of spices – silk." His eyes darted humorously over the welcoming committee. "I'm Jack," he added.

Elizabeth stared at him in shock, trying not to let it show. Jack had run the comb through his hair and tied it back with a piece of ribbon. It hung in a long thick rope halfway down his back, turning him from a wild lion into a sleek tiger. He was wearing the dark brown cap she had knit for Will, and in his borrowed clothing, he looked every inch the normal sailor he claimed to have once been. His face was clean from last night's bath, and in the morning light she could clearly see the delicateness of his facial structure, which she had never pondered before. He had such presence as a pirate that she'd never noticed that his physique was actually quite leaner than she'd imagined.

Furthermore, he was behaving like a completely different person. As she watched him be introduced to the party by Mrs. Ellis, Elizabeth saw that he was being charming without also being annoyingly ingratiating. He was not quite as unbalanced or unfocused as he usually was either. He was just unsteady enough to betray an unfamiliarity with dry land, as was befitting a sailor. Even his speech pattern had changed from slurred and crude to crisp and almost cultured. It was as though a mask had been stripped away from his face, and Elizabeth was suddenly unsure that she really knew Jack Sparrow at all.

"Ah – such a lovely young daughter you have, Mrs. Jenson," Jack said, bowing slightly to kiss the hand of the homely Sarah Jenson with a smile. "It is times like this that I regret that my first and only love is the sea."

"But surely it needn't remain that way, Mr. Swann," said a giggling Mrs. Jenson as her daughter blushed with a delighted smile. "There are many men who leave wives behind in our fair city while they pursue that same affection."

Jack sighed, as though with regret. "Sadly, I am one of those men who must give all of himself, or leave none at all. I would not allow any woman to feel even a moment of sadness that I could not devote to her the entirety of my heart. But I am content," he said to the crowd of awestruck women, "to leave that heart in the possession of the sea… and with my lovely Elizabeth."

Elizabeth started, and their eyes met. Though he grinned, his eyes seemed to be speaking to her, and she had to look away quickly or she'd blush. "Would you like to stay for breakfast, ladies?" she blurted. "I'm sure I have enough to feed all of us…"

"Why, don't be silly, Elizabeth!" Emily admonished, and Elizabeth noticed they were all carrying baskets, trays or pots in their hands. "We wouldn't have arrived uninvited without bringing our own provisions. We're not that uncouth." She led the women through the door and towards the kitchen, and each gave Elizabeth a smile, or a kiss on the cheek as they passed.

"What a remarkable man, that brother of yours," Mrs. Jenson gushed as she passed. "So romantic – and good looking, too," she added.

"Sorry for the bombardment, Elizabeth," Mrs. Ellis whispered. "I opened my mouth and, well, you know Emily."

Elizabeth and Jack were finally the only two remaining on the porch, and they stood staring at each other for a moment. Jack preened in amusement under the look she was giving him, as though he were too far away and she couldn't see him clearly. "What's the matter, Love?" he asked using his regular voice. "Am I not suitably presentable to entertain?"

Elizabeth's voice caught slightly in her throat as she spoke softly. "You were wonderful. Thank you, Jack." She stepped closer to him – so close that he held his breath in anticipation. "But I think I like you better as a pirate."

Jack was left alone on the porch as Elizabeth went inside after her guests. He thought over her words, and decided that she'd meant them as a compliment. With a grin on his face and a slight bounce in his step, Jack went inside the house, shutting the door behind him.

By the afternoon, Elizabeth was thoroughly annoyed with Jack, but not for any of the reason's she might have expected to be. He had behaved like a gentleman all morning, listening to the chatter of the visiting ladies as if there wasn't anywhere he'd rather be. He only spoke about himself when pressed, and even then he only shared enough to satisfy, without indulging in his love of a captive audience for his fantastic tales. He had turned aside the advances made by Mrs. Jenson on her daughter's behalf with such skill that both ladies left after breakfast smiling more brilliantly than when they'd come in.

He'd even sat through a few of Emily Ralston's Jack Sparrow stories without betraying the slightest hint of interest or amusement in the story beyond the teller herself. If Elizabeth hadn't known better, she would have believed the act Jack was putting on. When Sarah Jenson whispered to Elizabeth on her way out the door that she was lucky to have such a man in her life, Elizabeth felt the words echo within her, and she felt a desire to go and lie down until everyone had left and the real Jack could emerge again – the one who'd flirt with her outrageously, even though she was a married woman.

But even after their company departed, Jack continued with his charade. She hadn't seriously expected him to help with her preparations for Will's homecoming, but everywhere Elizabeth turned, Jack was there to lend a hand. It was just after dinner that she found Jack and William beginning to whitewash the house, and felt she could no longer stand it.

"Jack!" she shouted from near the corner of the house. She didn't want William to overhear her conversation – he had stuck by Jack's side all day, and she couldn't bear to think of the hurt it would cause him if he thought that Jack was only humoring him.

With a quick word and a wink to William, Jack dropped his paintbrush into the bucket and sauntered over, following her around the corner of the building with his familiar swagger in place. The normalcy of it gave her strength, and she folded her arms across her chest, glaring at him.

Jack grinned. He knew the effect his attitude was having on her, and it thrilled him – she was beautiful when she was angry. "Something the matter, Love?"

"I want you to stop… this," she said with vague gesture.

"Stop what? The whitewashing?" Jack pretended to be confused. "Thought you said you wanted it done, but if you want us to stop…"

"I mean this!" she pointed at him. "This act – pretending to be helpful and caring when we both know exactly what you're doing."

Jack leaned against the side of the house. "And what's that, Love?"

She sighed. "Jack – I don't want you using my son to get to me. It's despicable."

He frowned, and his eyes took on a fierceness she'd only seen once before – when she'd chained him to the mast. "No." He began slowly. "I may be a lot of things, Elizabeth, but even I'm better than that - and you know it," he said. He stood up straight and took a threatening step closer to her. "So why don't you cut through the bollocks and tell me what's truly buzzing 'round that insidious little mind of yours."

Elizabeth took a step backwards, uncertain. "I don't want him getting hurt," she told him.

"No, nor do I," Jack said. "I happen to like the lad – despite his resemblance to darling Will… or is that it?" he asked suddenly. "Is it that William hasn't asked after his father since I've arrived?"

That _was_ it, Elizabeth realized, and she gave Jack a resounding slap across the face. She regretted it immediately, knew he'd just been baiting her, but she said nothing as he straightened again with a hand to his jaw. Without a word, he turned around and headed back towards the side of the house where he'd left William. "Jack!" she called, chasing after him just before he reached the corner.

She grabbed his arm, and in an instant, he swept around, pushing her back against the wall, his face only inches from hers. He was staring at her lips, but didn't move any closer. Elizabeth breathed deeply, staring at his face.

"Why are you making this so hard for me?" she asked softly.

"I'm not the one who made it hard, Love," he breathed, voice just as ragged as her own. "Here you are – wrapped yourself up in this tidy little world full of stories – like none of it really happened. But you forgot one thing…" his voice dropped and his head moved ever so slightly closer.

"What?" she said in a whisper, already knowing the answer.

" 'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Mother? Uncle Jack?"

Both Jack and Elizabeth jumped, and she moved away to turn around the corner of the house. "We're just here, William – we'll be with you in a minute." She turned back to face Jack but he was already there, waiting for her. He drew her close, but not as close as before.

" 's not an act, Elizabeth," he said. "You said you always knew I was a good man… now I'm only proving it. Because you were right," he grinned, and she trembled a little. "I _do_ want to know what it tastes like.

"It's too late, Jack," her heart ached, even as she said it.

"Way I see it," he said, "I've got just as good a chance as your husband. Even better," he added, "since I'm here, and he's not."

"Jack," Elizabeth moaned, not knowing if she was begging him to stop or continue.

"Two days, Love," his lips brushed against her forehead as he spoke. "It's been ten long years… for all of us. Let's see where the wind blows."

He left her then, leaning against the wall for support, unsure of what had just happened. For ten years she'd looked unswervingly forward towards the day when Will would come back to her and they could have their life together. She'd never doubted, never strayed. She'd loved Will with a burning passion as she'd waited, raising their son… and in less than one day, Jack Sparrow had made her question every decision she'd made since he'd lowered her to the sea in his longboat all those years ago.

There was one thing Elizabeth didn't question though. It _was_ too late. No matter what confusion Jack's presence had created in her, Will – her beloved Will – was counting on her. Without her faithfulness, he would be doomed to more than just a ten year sentence as Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_. She held his heart, and she was his salvation. She would never let him down, not now.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

It was out there. The cards, such as they were, were on the table. Jack wasn't sure why he'd practically admitted to Elizabeth that he was there to try and steal her away from Will, but she was a temptress he'd long since given up trying to gauge. She was like a gust of wind – his sail would follow wherever she blew.

She had tried to keep up her pretenses that nothing out of the ordinary was going on, but Jack could sense her tension in the tightness of her shoulders and the erect stiffening of her spine. She was as edgy as a cat under a rocker, and Jack took perverse pleasure in ignoring her completely. It was psychological warfare, and he had absolute faith that it would work on the stubborn and impatient Mrs. Turner.

Just so long as the equally stubborn and impatient Jack Sparrow could keep up the act. It was so hard to pretend not to notice Elizabeth when she was all around him, and when all he wanted to do was sling her over his shoulder and carry her back to his ship. He would have given in to such instincts too, if it wasn't for young Master William.

Jack was aware from the moment he discovered the child's parentage that his position was an impossible one. It was one thing to try and seduce a lonely woman waiting for her lost love, but another thing entirely to capture the heart of someone with the tangible evidence of her promise of fidelity sitting in the same room. Still, it was William's quick thinking that had given him the opportunity to stay near Elizabeth at all, and Jack had never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It almost made things worse that he'd become so fond of the boy. William reminded Jack of himself at that age – a father at sea and a lonely mother to raise him as the son of a pirate. And while he wasn't sure exactly what he _was_ doing, he would _never_ consider using William to win Elizabeth. Well, not _now_, anyway.

The boy had been his shadow all afternoon, and with hours still to go until supper, the two men had taken a break from cleaning for William to show Jack his skill with a blade. The pirate did not have to be told to go easy on the child, and to William's laughing admiration, Jack even made a show of affecting his usual wobbly-legged gait for the demonstration.

They had moved away from the house, at Elizabeth's insistence, onto the green and grassy plateau above the beach where Jack's ship lay secreted among the rocks below the cliff. If one were to peer over the edge into the darkness below, he would not be able to see the 'Pearl' there at all; it was well hidden.

Further along the rim of the beach, more pirate ships were gathered and continued to arrive throughout the day, yet Jack noted with relief that none had come aground to seek out Mrs. Turner – not yet anyway. He hoped no one would get the bright idea to use Elizabeth as insurance against being dubbed the next commander of the _Dutchman_, but it was, even so, another reason for him to remain close to mother and son.

Although said son seemed to be able to handle a sword rather better than Jack had anticipated. Even as they began a light fencing match, the pirate could tell that William had just as much potential skill as a swordsman as did his father. In fact, he was good enough that Jack quickly abandoned his playful demeanor and put up a more ardent defense. His skill in a swordfight admittedly came more from wit and trickery than skill, but he was gratified that he could at least hold his own against the boy.

"Who taught you how to use a sword, Mate?" Jack was grinning, despite his increasingly labored breathing. "Surly not your mum?"

William beamed at the praise, but Elizabeth, who had come with them to watch, answered for him. "I was a fairly proficient swordsman when we last met, Jack – and I've improved since then." She wore an sardonic smile.

"Ah," Jack shot a knowing glance her direction. "Following the whelp's method for releasing tension, eh? Tell me, do you practice three hours a day or, having had some… experience, do you put in for more?"

The underlying insinuation in that question was lost on William, who continued fencing, but Elizabeth understood clearly, and her face darkened under an angry blush. "You're vile," she said in a low voice.

Jack just laughed as he dodged a thrust from William's blade.

I'll have you know that William and I only train five hours a week, and already he's nearly as good as Will," Elizabeth said haughtily.

"Aye, Love," Jack answered between parries, "but it's your… skills, that interest me more."

Getting to her feet, flushed with fury, Elizabeth held out her hand to her son. "William, give me your sword." To Jack she added tauntingly, "Are you sure you want to see my skills, Jack?"

"Oh yes, Love," he answered with a leer. "let's see them."

William was practically dancing with excitement as Elizabeth took his sword in hand and held it in front of her. "Do not underestimate me, Captain," she said warningly. "I promise you, I won't hold back."

"And _I_ promise," Jack gave a flourished bow, "to be gentle."

With a growl of fury that resembled a battle cry, Elizabeth flung herself at Jack, blade flashing. She was momentarily surprised when Jack parried, and thrust back. He was not keeping his promise to go easy on her, and in the back of her mind, she knew he was just trying to provoke her as usual. Still, she was aching for a chance to let her frustrations with Jack out on him, and she fought him with all her skill.

Elizabeth was a better swordsman than Jack, he had no doubt of that within moments of engaging her. He hadn't doubted that to begin with, despite his teasing words, and Jack continued grinning as he danced backwards and forwards, carrying their battle all across the field. William was nearby cheering – for which one, Jack couldn't tell. It was taking all of his focus to keep away from Elizabeth's blade.

She may have been more skilled than he, but Jack did not fight using only his sword. His wit was his most dangerous weapon, and it was one that was often underestimated. Elizabeth should have remembered that. Jack was all over the place, and seemed to do more retreating than advancing. He even used a fallen log, practically hidden in the tall weeds, as a launch point for a flip in the air that so surprised Elizabeth, Jack managed to dart close enough to her to place a quick kiss on her lips.

William shrieked in laughter at the action as Elizabeth's face twisted in anger to hide her blush. In a passion, she lunged forward, forcing Jack further and further back until his face finally lost that maddening smirk as he defended himself.

From somewhere behind her, Elizabeth heard her son shout something, but she didn't realize what it was until too late. She thrust out with her sword aimed at Jack's midsection, and he dodged backwards on his toes… just as she realized he was at the edge of the cliff. Jack seemed to notice it at the same moment, and his eyes widened as the rock began to crumble beneath him.

Without a sound, Jack plunged over the cliff, falling towards the cold sea below.

Elizabeth screamed, and she heard William cry out too. Dropping her sword and dashing to the edge, she fell to her knees and leaned over as far as she dared. It did no good – all was dark below. With Jack's name on her lips and a prayer flooding her heart, she leapt to her feet and threw herself after William, who had already begun running towards their house and to the path beyond leading to the docks.

She ran as she hadn't needed to in years, and although the air burned in her chest, it was still not fast enough. Elizabeth hadn't even stopped to get her medical bag, so anxious was she to get down to the beach and make sure that Jack was – because he just _had_ to be – all right.

She quickly caught, and overtook, her son. Elizabeth didn't stop for help at any of the houses or shops along the way, and she ignored the calls from the sailors who recognized her as she passed the docks. By the time she got to the beach, William had fallen behind but he knew the way. In her head echoed the litany, _'I killed him. Oh God, I killed him again. Please… please… let him be safe…'_ until she thought of nothing else.

Elizabeth finally reached the beaches of the Diamond Caves, and she was grateful no one stopped her there. She vaguely identified the shadowy hulks of the ships, and here and there the light from a fire flared up, but no one dared stop the obviously frantic Captain Swann. A few called out to William, and she realized he must not be as far behind as she'd thought, but she didn't wait to see if he'd answer their summons.

For the first time, she thought about Jack's ship, the _Black Pearl_. It must be nearby if her Captain was ashore, and Elizabeth considered taking stock of the boats along the beach to see if she were among them, but that would take too much time. Reaching the rocky outcropping that her son had climbed over the day before, she didn't hesitate in rushing into the shallows accompanied by great splashes, and clambering onto the rocks as best she could in her booted feet.

She might have been more fearful if she'd stopped to think about the journey over the rocks. The stones were loose and crumbling, and the available ledges that would support her weight were made for much smaller feet than even hers, but she made her way with little thought, and her ignorance served her well on this occasion. She landed with a thud on the opposite beach from the one she'd been on, and didn't pause more than a second before running through the soft sand towards the place she imagined to be just below the cliff upon which her house stood.

Elizabeth's eyes scanned the shadows along the beach and shores, but she saw no sign of Jack. The wall of rock that led up to her house curved around oddly on the far side, and as she drew nearer, she realized there was a natural inlet just beyond that led into the side of the mountain beneath her home.

Half in the shallow water leading into this subterranean cove and half on the beach, Jack lay sprawled on his back, legs and arms thrown out. He was still clutching his sword, and his eyes were closed.

Elizabeth let out a sob of relief at seeing him, and she threw herself onto her knees, surely bruising them. At his side, she quietly said his name, and then repeated it more loudly when he remained still. She was holding her breath, but she couldn't take in new air until she knew whether or not she'd killed Jack a second time. Tears blurred her eyes and she angrily wiped them away, leaving streaks of dirt on her cheeks. Putting a trembling hand on Jack's chest, she leaned close to check for breath or a heartbeat.

There was nothing. Screaming angrily at Jack, Elizabeth slapped his chest, calling him all of the most horrible names she could think of. She felt a small hand on her shoulder, and knew that William was with her. Still, she couldn't calm herself, and she fell onto Jack again, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him with all of her strength.

And then, he coughed. Elizabeth was so startled that she released him, and he fell back to the sand with a muffled thud. Wide-eyed and silent, she stared at Jack as though he were a ghost, as the pirate began moving. His eyes fluttered briefly and a hand swam upward to his chest where it stopped.

"Jack," she whispered. Then louder, "Jack!" She pulled the startled man into her arms, and felt him stiffen before melting against her, warm and alive. _Alive_. "But… how?" She breathed against his neck. He shuddered at the feel of it.

"'m Captain Jack Sparrow, Love," he rasped, making her laugh shakily. There was a moment of silence as they lingered in each other's arms. His hand tangled in the hair at the back of her head, and she heard him sigh very softly. "Should have told you… I'm nigh untouchable these days." Quickly, he gave her a condensed version of what had happened ten years ago after he'd left her on the solitary beaches of Port Royal. He told her about Barbossa abandoning him and Gibbs on Tortuga, and about using the compass to find the Aqua de Vida in the Americas just in time to get back his ship and leave Barbossa with naught but a bullet to pass the time. When he finished, his arms were empty and Elizabeth sat less than a foot away, staring at him.

"So… you're immortal," she breathed in wonder. "You actually found a way to live forever."

Jack nodded, slowly though, because his head still ached. "Yep. Just me and the sea… so far," he added with a glace at Elizabeth's face. It did not go unnoticed, but she had no time to comment. The snick of a gun being cocked drew all of their attention to a man in the shadows.

"On yer feet and stow yer weapons," a rough voice ordered. "Or it's straight to the Locker with the lot of ye."

"'m sure Captain Turner would be pleased to see his wife and son, Mr. Gibbs, but he might be a bit put out by their manner of conveyance," Jack said to his wary First mate.

"Captain?" Joshamee Gibbs asked. "Ms. Elizabeth?" He stared at the boy. "Mother's Blood – he's the very image of ol' Bootstrap and Master Turner!"

"Mr. Gibbs!" Elizabeth had recovered herself, and gave the astonished man a hug before introducing a flustered William. Between Jack's death, resurrection, explanation, and the appearance of yet another pirate from his mother's stories, the child was ready to burst with the excitement.

"What in God's name's happened here?" Gibbs demanded, still staring at William.

"Jack fell, but he can't die, so it's okay," William summarized, adding to Gibbs' bemusement. "Is the _Pearl_ nearby? Can we go on it?" He looked to his mother and Jack pleadingly.

Jack began climbing to his feet, and Elizabeth noticed his movement. In an instant, she was at his side, helping him to stand. Jack felt dizzy, but he didn't know if it was from the fall of Elizabeth's hands on his arm. "If your mum says it's all right, I don't see why not," Jack said with a thick tongue. Elizabeth glanced at him and from the way she quickly averted her eyes, he was certain she'd noticed his reaction to her close proximity.

"Yes," Elizabeth said after a moment of thought. "I think it'd be a good idea for Jack to rest for a bit… just in case," she concluded. Despite his immortality, she was still worried – it was a long way down from the cliffs to the beach.

Gibbs was staring at Jack in astonishment as William cheered and began running into the underground cove, Elizabeth calling after him to wait for them. The First mate was completely baffled by his Captain's relaxed demeanor. "Yes," he said, sharing Elizabeth's concern for Jack's state. "And a spot of rum wouldn't hurt him either."

Elizabeth didn't reply as Jack began stumbling towards his ship. One hand on his arm and the other resting on his hip around his waist, she helped him, although she realized it was probably unnecessary. Behind them Gibbs muttered something she couldn't hear and was sure she didn't want to, before following them.

The cave was dark, but within a few feet of the entrance, they turned a corner and the brightly lit _Pearl_ gave off enough illumination to light their way. She looked just as Elizabeth remembered her, and she felt a wave of longing to be on the decks once more. She quickened her pace and Jack matched he step as though he too, was eager to be aboard. He probably was. He loved the _Black Pearl_ more than he'd ever loved anything else, as far as she knew.

Music could be heard, and as she drew closer, she heard the din of laughter and raucous voices drifting towards them from the ship. Several indistinguishable faces noted their arrival, and word was passed to lower a plank for them to ascend more easily.

William waited for them to reach him before stepping onto the narrow wooden board leading from the beach to the ship. He walked steadily and confidently behind Mr. Gibbs, who had taken the lead, and Elizabeth followed at the back, carefully watching Jack as he walked precariously just ahead of her.

Several of the carousing crew-members cried out in delight as Elizabeth stepped onto the deck of the_Black Pearl_. Pintel and Ragetti were beside her in an instant, bowing to her and marveling over her animated son. A few more familiar faces greeted her warmly as a fellow crewman, and even some she didn't remember seemed to have heard enough about her to nod welcomingly and offer her a mug of rum, which she accepted gladly. She needed a drink more than ever.

When she couldn't find Mr. Cotton among the crew, she asked after him, and listened sadly as Gibbs told her the story of his death. She laughed when told of the parrot's subsequent plea and demise, and after a few minutes, she felt more at home than she had in years.

William was radiant under the pirate crew's attention. Surrounded by dozens of men who not only knew his father and his grandfather, but had worked with them both. He was instantly swept away from his mother into the tide of pirates with stories of the older Turner's to delight him with. Content that he was safe, Elizabeth firmly steered Jack towards his cabin beneath the poop deck.

She had never been in the cabin while Jack was Captain of the ship. His taste in décor was far different from the overdramatic opulence of Barbossa's, but was far more exotic. Mementos from various islands and other ports of call hung on the walls, and the desk was heavily covered with maps and charts, which surprised her. The blanket on his bed was surprisingly soft and thick, and Jack sighed when she poured him onto the bunk.

Elizabeth didn't have to search long before finding a half empty bottle of rum in the room. She handed it to Jack and after taking it from her, he grabbed her hand and tugged gently. She hesitated, but to her own astonishment, she ceded to his silent demands and climbed on the bed beside him. Carefully, she rested her head and arm on his chest, holding him close to her.

"I thought you were dead… I thought I'd killed you again," she admitted in a whisper. She shuddered. "Oh, Jack, I thought…."

"Shhh…" he silenced her, stroking the back of her head with one hand. "'m all right."

Lulled by his soothing words and the comforting hand running along the length of her hair, Elizabeth fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

And Jack followed willingly.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Jack slept fitfully. The first time he awoke after falling asleep with Elizabeth in his arms was when Gibbs had opened the door to the Captain's cabin, stuck his head inside to make sure everyone was decent, and then withdrew, pushing a drowsily stumbling William inside. At Jack's welcoming grin and beckoning gesture, the boy had crawled into bed between the two adults as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

And although Elizabeth and William slept soundly, curled next to him on his bunk, Jack continued to wake every few hours, reaching out in the darkness to make sure they were still there… that he wasn't dead or dreaming. They never woke when Jack touched their faces, and once comforted, he fell back into an uneasy sleep.

He only knew when dawn came by the familiar accuracy of his internal clock, and the dim glow of sunlight creeping from the entrance of the cave to peer in at his cabin's windows. In that faint illumination, Jack could see the still sleeping figures of Elizabeth and William beside him, and for a while, he watched them sleep.

Jack felt an odd trembling in his stomach that he hadn't experienced since turning around to face the looming mass of the Kraken. He rarely thought about his feelings, but looking at Elizabeth and William, he felt as though he were drowning, and it suddenly occurred to the pirate that the situation he'd gotten himself into here wasn't simple.

It was not a question of want – he _wanted_ Elizabeth. Always had. But as usual, he hadn't thought - about what coming for her would mean to any of them. Jack had learned the hard way about being too open and too familiar with others, and it was not a mistake he'd make lightly again. Frowning, he thought about what winning this battle of wills he was engaged in would mean. Worse, he thought about what losing the battle would result in, and it put everything into sharp perspective for Jack.

Either way, something would be lost. Either he would lose a bit of his freedom to a blonde-haired woman and her mite of a son… or he'd lose something that was beginning to seem far more important. It was troubling. Being tied to anything made him nervous, but looking at the matching golden heads lying beside him….

Jack's mouth went dry, and he felt an overwhelming need for rum. Carefully untangling his limbs from the ones surrounding him, Jack slid from the bunk as quietly as he could. A cold lamp hung near his desk, and with fingers long accustomed to the task, he lit it and made his way towards the door.

A soft moan froze him in place and he turned to catch William rubbing his face with one irritable hand. Jack waited to see if he were awake, or just shifting in a dream.

William's eyes opened and met Jack's instantly. He breathed the pirate's name as he blinked his eyes, struggling to wake up.

Jack kept his voice low. "Go back to sleep, Mate. "

William stared for a minute. "You'll be back?" he asked.

Nodding, Jack closed his eyes to keep his emotions from showing. "Won't be long… Captainy things."

Succumbing to the pull of sleep, William sighed contently and hummed a few lines from a song that called to Jack's mind an enormous fire, and he and Elizabeth dancing in drunken circles…

With William snoring again, Jack escaped from the room onto the deck of his ship. The light wasn't much better out here, but the lamps were lit around the clock, and he could see several of his men engaged in general repairs and maintenance. It was so soothingly normal that Jack couldn't help but feel relief at the sight. Hanging his own lamp on the hook beside his cabin door, Jack turned right to walk up the set of stairs leading to the wheel. Although there was nowhere to go, he felt a desire to be in command.

Mr. Gibbs was there already, watching over the crew that shuffled to and fro across the lower decks. The First mate did not smile when he saw Jack, but watched him approach with an unreadable expression on his face. It didn't take a sea witch to understand why.

As Jack reached the wheel and took his place unnecessarily behind it, Gibbs spoke, and confirmed the Captain's suspicions about his manner. "Didn't know she had a son," he said.

"Yes, it would seem the whelp isn't a eunuch after all," Jack said blandly. "Frankly, I'm as shocked as you are."

Gibbs frowned. "Makes things a mite complicated, I'd wager."

He was fishing, but Jack refused to bite. "And yet, he managed it in one go. Doesn't appear he had any trouble at all, did he?"

"Damn it all, Jack!" Gibbs swore exasperatedly. "What are you about?"

Jack narrowed his eyes. "I seem to recall a particularly meddling First mate urging me into this situation in the first place."

Gibbs at least had the decency to blush. "Yes, but Jack… a married woman with a child is-"

"I've bedded many a married woman in my day, Mate," Jack didn't meet the other man's eyes. "Some of them even had children."

"Aye, but this isn't just any husband you're aiming to cuckold," Gibbs stepped closer to his captain and lowered his voice. "You forget, Will's captain of the _Dutchman_ now, and you barely survived the last time you tangled with that ship."

Jack looked at him. "You're forgetting who put the whelp in that position to begin with," he said.

"Yes, well I'm not so sure he'd be thanking ye for it by this time. Especially if he returns to find ye taking advantage of the opportunity."

Jack was silent for a minute. "Of course, you didn't see fit to think of all this before sending me after the wench?"

The expression of Gibbs' face was somber. "Perhaps I should have Captain, there be truth in that. I'll admit though, I didn't expect…"

Jack frowned dangerously. "Didn't expect what, Mate?"

Gibbs searched Jack's face before answering. "I hoped to see you get her out of your system, is all," he said. "Elizabeth's a fine sailor, and a good captain, but women on board a ship are trouble, and she's haunted you like a ghost for the last ten years. I'd thought seeing her one last time would clear her spirit from the air, but I never dreamed you'd go and fall in love with one another."

Jack flinched as though he'd been struck. "God's Teeth man, what are you blathering about?"

But Gibbs didn't back down. "Say what you like, Captain. You've never craved a solitary woman as you have her, so perhaps I should have known. But I saw the three of you when you came on board yesterday, and I'm not so old that I can't remember what it looks like."

Again, Jack was watching his First mate walk away from him at the helm before Jack could come up with a response. Love? Infantile twaddle, that was. What was in Gibbs' head?

"Captain?"

Looking over the railing, Jack saw that Marty had come bearing a tray of breakfast foods suitable for a woman and child. Still wide-eyed with bewilderment, Jack leapt over the railing beside the miniature bosun and took the tray from his hands. With a nod of thanks, he picked up the lamp he'd left outside the door and went back into his cabin.

Light struck Elizabeth's face, and Jack caught his breath. He froze, staring, and the echo of Gibbs' words resounded in his ears. As he frowned at them, Elizabeth gave a soft little sigh and her honey-colored eyes opened, falling on him.

Jack braced himself for her shock, her disgust, her accusations of wrongdoing on his part that had resulted in her spending a night in his bed but instead, she smiled. Rolling onto her back, she closed her eyes again and stretched the ache of sleep from her body, and Jack had to look away.

"Morning," she said finally.

"That it is," he replied glibly. "Hungry?"

He knew she had to be… they had missed supper due to his little accident last night, and he couldn't help grinning when her stomach gave a tremendous rumble of enthusiasm in answer to his question.

Elizabeth giggled wryly and easily slipped from the bunk to join Jack at his desk, where he'd set down his tray. It was simple food, but fresh, and with the exception of the feast Barbossa had presented her with when she'd been here as his prisoner, it was the nicest fare she'd seen onboard this ship.

Pineapple sliced into rings and an assortment of other fruits, along with a rasher of bacon, kippers, and bread so new she could still feel the warmth of it. She was so ravenous that she didn't care where it had all come from, and she sat down and immediately began to devour the meal.

Jack merely uncorked a fresh bottle of rum and took a healthy swig, watching Elizabeth's very unladylike table manners with a smug grin. His Lizzie could eat just as heartily as any of the men on his crew. He'd always hated a woman's habit of pecking at their food like a bird… wait. _His_ Lizzie? And for that matter, _Lizzie_? He scowled bemusedly. This was becoming a right annoying little habit he'd developed.

Elizabeth noticed his expression and faltered in her eating. A deep red flush crept up from her décolletage and she let her hands fall, still holding the hunk of bread she'd been about to shove into her mouth. "I'm sorry, Jack," she said in embarrassment. "I've been rude… would you like anything?"

The look in her eyes softened Jack, and he waved her offer aside. "I've got all I need right here," he said, holding up the bottle for her to see.

Raising her eyebrow at the sight of his breakfast, Elizabeth found her eyes following his arm and coming to rest of the bit of skin revealed at his wrist by the gesture. The tight discolored skin that formed the shape of a 'P' held her attention, and she found herself needing to know so many things about the man in front of her.

"Jack?" she asked, unsure. "Will you tell me about your scar? You said you were with the East India Trading Company?"

Jack stared at her uncomfortably, hand automatically reaching to cover the old wound. Finally he nodded shortly. "That's right… I was a merchant seaman – Captain of the _Wicked Wench_ under our old friend, Cutler Beckett."

She waited for him to continue, and when he didn't she asked, "Why did he brand you?" He looked away, and she added, "It's just… there's so much I don't know about you… I want to understand."

Jack had become very still, with only his eyes moving back and forth as though scanning memories long locked away. When he looked at Elizabeth, it was with a weary expression that made him look older. At last, he spoke. "My father was a pirate, and my mum, an Indian lady from Madagascar. They met around the time that the French East India Trading Company began trying to establish colonies there, and Captain Teague fought to protect his interests. They fell in love, and I was the result."

Elizabeth waited for him to continue, hardly daring to breathe.

"As you've heard, and it's true, I was born during a typhoon on board my father's ship. I didn't see a lot of him as a lad, and I grew up with what will surprise you as a healthy disregard for the piratical sort." He shrugged at the irony, although he didn't smile. "At fifteen, I stowed away on a ship bound for Tortuga in search of that swivel-tongued serpent from whose loins I'd sprung."

Elizabeth blinked. "I thought you got on well with your father," she said.

Jack laughed. "No one gets on well with my father… with the exception of me mum… he always displayed an unusual amount of affection for her." He trailed off for a moment, lost in memory, before returning to his story. "Captain Teague and I have an understanding. I don't look to him for any favors and he doesn't go out of his way to kill me."

"Jack, that can't be true. I remember your father. He may have been a bit gruff but he certainly didn't seem at all disappointed in you, or - "

Jack cut her off. "Lizzie darling, thank you for the kind words of support, but can I get on with my story now?" She fell silent, although she didn't look pleased. Having started talking, Jack had to finish the tale or he knew he'd begin to relive it in other ways. Ignoring her glare, he continued. "I never found him in Tortuga, nor for many years after. Got myself into a right bit of trouble though, and I spent several years dancing in and out of one situation or another.

"When I was about eighteen, I went back to find my mum. While I'd been off looking for Captain Teague, he'd been right back where I'd started." He continued hurriedly when he saw that Elizabeth would interrupt. "Not the entire time, no, but he knew I was looking, and made no attempt to find me himself. There were words, none of them pleasant, and in the end, I set out to be the kind of man my father never had been. I returned to the Caribbean and joined the East India Trading Company.

"It was honest work, and I was at home on the sea. I worked hard, tried not to get in the wrong people's way, and sent nearly every penny back to Mum. She didn't need the money, Captain Teague took care of her well enough, but I didn't want him doing what I could do for meself."

Jack sighed, as if bored. "Then I had the misfortune of meeting Cutler Beckett." Jack's eyes were on the table, and he was frowning. "He was newly a Commodore then, and looking for new Captain's for his ships. The Captain of the ship on which I was a Privateer at the time mentioned me, and although I thought Beckett a foppish barracuda, I wasn't about to turn down a ship of my own, and an assignment that would allow me to return regularly to Madagascar.

"The _Wicked Wench_ set sail from Toliara in Madagascar to the British colony of New York, from whence it would return. Beckett gave orders that none but those he'd specifically appointed were to inspect the cargo, and the remainder of the crew, myself included, were to stay out of the hold."

"But you were curious," Elizabeth guessed.

"As a cat, love," Jack nodded. No sooner had we reached open sea, then I made it my Captainly duty to find out just what kind of cargo I was carrying." A subtle sneer twisted his face, and Elizabeth could see the anger in his eyes. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not stupid. I knew what kind of person Beckett was, and I knew a bit about the East India Trading Company. I thought the commodore was holding out on the Company… keeping some of the shiny for his onesie. But when I saw what was in the hold, what I had taken on as cargo…."

His voice failed him for a moment and he looked away. "It was people. Magalasy negroes destined to be sold as slaves in the Americas. They were starved, dirty, and stripped of every human dignity, shoved together so close they were on top of one another." Jack growled as though the memory hurt physically. "I turned the _Wench_ towards the Caribbean and set the lot of them free. Some of them stayed on me crew, where they were treated far better than either at home or where they were being sent, and some ended up with Tia Dalma in New Orleans.

"That boatload of negroes was the end of the honest Jack Sparrow. When Beckett caught up to my ship he brought a rope to hang me with, and that damnable cane of his with its distinctive brand." Jack again rubbed his arm. "He branded me a pirate and set my ship aflame, but before he could string me up, I leapt into the water, where I stayed until Davy Jones came to collect me."

"Wait – Jones?"

Jack nodded. "It was not the first time we'd met, and the old squid was eager to get me in his clutches. I wasn't quite ready to give in just yet, so I made him a bargain." He leaned back in his chair, kicking his boots up onto the desk. "He would raise my ship, which I would Captain for thirteen years, and after that, I promised to spend the next one hundred years aboard the _Dutchman_. It seemed like such a long time then, thirteen years, and I figured I'd find some way out of it in the end."

He smiled. "And the rest, you know. After three years I had a crew, a compass and a plan to find the Isla de Muerta. Then that bilious Barbossa mutinied against me, and I spent the next ten years trying to get me ship back."

Surprised understanding illuminated Elizabeth's face. "You mean _this_," she looked around.

"Aye, love," Jack gestured widely with his hands. " The _Wicked Wench_, rechristened the _Black Pearl_ after her Phoenix-like immersion from the depths."

"That explains the black sails," she said weakly.

He fell silent, and Elizabeth stared. Falling back in her chair, she tried to process everything he had just told her, to make it mesh with everything she already knew of Jack. It seemed an impossible story, and yet, the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. She'd known him to be a good man from the moment she'd met him, but it'd been so difficult to make that impression hold in the face of his less than desirable tendencies.

Now she saw it all for what is was… an act. A brilliantly played role, in which Jack assumed the rum-soaked persona known to everyone in order to hide a streak of nobility and a lack of blood-thirstiness that was a handicap for a pirate. He had spent his youth hating pirates, but when faced with a choice between death or piracy, he found a way to make the less desirable option work for him.

Just as she had.

Just as Will hadn't. Elizabeth had no doubt that as soon as her husband returned, he would never look back on his life at sea with the same longing as she did, or as Jack would, if bound to the land. He would forever be content with the mundane in life, and as much as she loved her son and husband, Elizabeth suddenly understood exactly why Jack always said they were peas in a pod. It wasn't just their wit, their strength, or their ability to adapt to their circumstances. It was their longing, the salt that ran in their blood, and their need for the freedom given them by the sea – by the _Pearl_.

Her heart was in her eyes, and she knew it. Closing them tightly, Elizabeth lifted a hand to cover them as well, and the room suddenly felt too close. In an instant, Jack was in front of her, concerned, and she tried to pull away but he grabbed her chin and called her name so forcefully, she had no choice but to meet his gaze.

And he saw. He knew. His eyes widened, and he leaned back on his heels, whispering her name. They were frozen in the heartbeat of that moment, and Elizabeth found herself wondering why he didn't kiss her.

Then William was in her arms, on her lap, oblivious to the intensity of emotion in the cabin and eager to fill his empty stomach with the remaining food Jack had brought them. Her eyes were still on Jack, who was watching her every movement, and she did not take her eyes off of him as she wrapped her arms around he son and kissed the side of his neck.

Whether she'd meant it or not, there was a message in that action and Jack saw it with clarity. Taking a steadying breath he returned William's greeting of 'good morning', and went to look out the window on the far side of the room. There was nothing to see but the dark walls of the cave, but he wasn't focused on the view anyway.

Elizabeth and William spent the day with the crew, Jack never far behind them and always with the same, unreadable expression on his face. She did her best to ignore his presence, but more often than not she found her eyes returning to him, or searching for his figure if he disappeared for too long.

William took advantage of his mother's distraction by climbing into the crow's nest with Marty, who had befriended him the night before, and learning how to climb aloft onto the yardarms and swing down to the deck by rope. Elizabeth watched with only one eye, and told herself that if it were any other crew, she would have been more concerned, instead of mooning about like a school-girl.

They ate dinner with the crew in the early afternoon before returning home. Elizabeth hadn't forgotten what day it was, and she found herself wondering if Jack intended to return with them. He had kept a respectable distance from her throughout the morning, and though she was relieved by his discretion, she was also hurt by the sudden lack of his presence. Did he, she wondered, no longer desire her, now that he'd seen the hunger in her eyes? What was it he wanted from her?

He hung back as Elizabeth and William said their goodbyes to the crew, waiting as she shook hands or bowed her head to his men. William, with the exuberant innocence of his youth, hugged each and every pirate aboard, to Jack's amusement. No one seemed to mind though, and each one made the boy promise to come back just as soon as his mother would let him.

When they were finally ready, Elizabeth turned to him with uncertain eyes, and Jack cursed himself. He'd thought he'd been abiding by her unspoken wishes by keeping distant, but the hurt in her eyes told him she hadn't interpreted his actions that way. He was a fool. "Come on, Love," he said, smiling his brilliant smile. "Ready, Mate?" William leapt forward, grabbing his hand. Jack squeezed it once.

The trio walked along the beach in silence, William darting ahead every now and then, chasing the birds that pecked along the shore. A small smile lit Elizabeth's face as she watched her son. Jack focused on watching the boy too, and laughed when he flung himself heedlessly into the surf after a flock of startled sandpipers.

Elizabeth looked at Jack, almost shyly, and for a moment she allowed herself to take in the surreal wonder of that moment; her, Jack and William walking down the beach the way she never had with Will. Jack's attention to her son touched her, but it was with a hint of sadness that she realized it wasn't permanent. Jack could never be content as a family man, the way Will could be. It was silly to even entertaining the thought.

But then Jack surprised Elizabeth by taking her hand in his, and she shocked herself by not pulling away. They didn't look at each other, didn't speak, but for the first time in as long as either of them could remember, no words were needed between them, and she let herself forget that it was only fantasy.

Elizabeth disappeared into her bedroom to change clothing as soon as they got home, and Jack stood uncertainly in the sitting room. William asked him to play cards, and at a loss for anything else to do, Jack sat down in a chair across from the boy.

Jack listened half-heartedly to William's chatter, lost in thought, but one question drew back his attention.

"Do you love my mother?"

Jack froze, staring at William. He contemplated lying, but immediately changed his mind. "Yeah, Mate. I'm no expert, but it looks like that might be the case."

William focused on the cards he was sorting in his hands, not looking up at the older man but he nodded knowingly. "I thought so."

Jack waited. "And, do you have any thoughts on the subject?"

Surprised at being asked such a question by an adult, William looked up and lay down his hand. "I'm glad. She's lonely."

"What about your father?"

He scrunched his brow in thought, then shrugged. "He's coming home tonight, but she's happy right now, and that makes me happy." He paused. "Is it possible for someone to love two people, Uncle Jack?"

"I don't know, Mate. I don't know."

"William? You should go change. It'll be time to go meet your father soon."

By the look on her face, Jack thought she might have been standing there listening for longer than he would have liked. She was holding an old, familiar chest in her hands, and when William disappeared she put it down on the bench of the pianoforte, avoiding his eyes.

"Did you mean it? What you said, Jack?" Elizabeth asked, not turning around.

He had no idea what answer would make her happier. "What do you think, love?" he finally answered.

"I think," she began. "I think, you're a good man, Jack, You know I've always thought that." She met his eyes. "I want the freedom of the sea, and the life I once knew, but I want a family more."

He nodded, understanding, and his jaw clenched. "I didn't mean it." His voice was low and harsh with hurt, but Jack couldn't find it in him to care. "I'm not the kind of man you want."

Elizabeth stepped back as if he'd hit her. She'd thought that maybe… but he hadn't meant it after all. He didn't love her. She was a fool. Tears sprung to her eyes and she quickly turned away to hide them. "Yes," was all she could answer.

"I'll get me coat." Jack's effects, hat and regular clothing were in Elizabeth's room, and he scooped the pile up without stopping.

William emerged from his own room in breeches, a maroon vest, and a tri-corned hat. Jack smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm off, Mate." He tried cheerfully. "Behave yourself, alright?"

The pained confusion on the boy's face was enough to ruin Jack, and he quickly went out into the foyer.

Elizabeth was waiting there, and he couldn't make himself meet her eyes. After a moment's hesitation, William burst into the room behind him and flung his arms around Jack's waist.

"Wait! You have to stay! You're supposed to be here when Father comes home!" William was crying.

Jack's smile was ghastly. "You tell them… tell them I got called out early, or something." Then in a lower voice, he added so that Elizabeth couldn't hear, "I'm sorry, Mate. So sorry."

Elizabeth could hardly speak around the emotions clogging her throat. "Jack… you can't get the _Pearl_ ready before nightfall, and you'll never get her out of that cave after dark. You should… for William's sake…"

"No, love," Jack interrupted. "I think I'd rather sleep on the ship. Give my regards to your Dearly Beloved." A hardness had returned to his voice and it lent an edge to his words he didn't fully intend. Still, the hurt in her face made him feel a bit better. For a moment anyway.

"Please stay, Jack," William begged tearfully. "_Please_!"

With a last look at William, but not another word, Jack opened the door and walked out of Elizabeth's life. She shut it behind him firmly, determined not to watch him go. Sinking to her knees in front of her son, she took him in her arms and held him until the shaking subsided, and his sobs faded.

But William was young and resilient, and although hurt by Jack's departure, the imminent arrival of his father after so many years was enough to distract him after the first wave of pain reached its crescendo. It was not quite as easy for Elizabeth, but she too had plenty to look forward to. Her husband, Will, the man she'd waited for faithfully for over ten years would be in her arms tonight, finally.

With William running excitedly ahead of her, singing an old familiar pirate song, the two made their way to the cliff near their house to watch for the green flash that would announce the _Flying Dutchman's_ arrival at sunset. Mother and son exchanged a fond look in complete and sudden silence, and then, in a moment of bated breath, the ship was there.

Elizabeth inhaled deeply, and smiled. This was what she had been waiting for. She would have to banish Jack Sparrow back into the little corner of her heart that he had occupied since her childhood.

She just _had_ to. Will was home.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Hi again! I was up half the night last night, scripting endless appologies for this chapter before I remembered that I'm the author, and I don't need to appologize! (I hate it when author's begin a chapter by appologizing, so I refuse.) Here's the skinny - Will's back, so this is a Will-heavy chapter. I appeal to your faith in me and you tolerant natures to not skip this chapter in annoyance (if that kind of thing annoy's you - Sparrabeth's, yes, you), but to read this chapter carefully with an eye on the massive subtext and not so sub text, that I've tried to use to tie this whole thing together so that it makes sense. Unfortunately, (for me too,) Jack does not really appear in this chapter, but the next and final chapter makes up for it completely. This was difficult to write, so I hope you enjoy it and I look forward to hearing all of your thoughts on it - good and bad. Of course, if you're actually interested in my thought process regarding this chapter and tieing it into the whole fic, please ask. I'm very nerdily eager to share, cuz it was kind of a facinating thing to experience. Anyway, read and enjoy, and then tune in for the conclusion to Part 1, which if I stay on track, will be up around this time on Friday. Thanks! - Kimberlee_

__

P.S. - This is my longest chapter yet for this fic - there was a lot of ground to cover! - K.

**Chapter Nine**

He was surrounded by the brilliant green light that had become as familiar to him as a heartbeat and then Will Turner, Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_, entered the gloaming of the living world. After ten years spent straddling the boundary between the living and the dead, Will was arriving home at last.

He was a changed man, there was no denying it. You could not make your home at the end of the world for so long without it having an affect. Will had always been a quiet man, but over time he'd become even more taciturn, speaking only to his father, or to give orders to his crew. Those who chose to serve under Captain Turner rather than succumb to the cold embrace of the sea grew to respect him. He was stern, but fair. He was never cruel to the souls in his care, but discharged his duty with a singularity of purpose that brought peace back to the seas after the long, cruel reign of Davy Jones.

Will Turner was a good man and honorable, but there was one thing he had learned above all else after ten years as Captain of the _Dutchman_ - a man without a heart, was only half a man.

His heart of course, had been left behind with Elizabeth after his one day spent with her before setting sail so long ago. It had been cut out of his chest with his father's knife after Davy Jones had stabbed him there. Will had returned the favor, sending Jones to the depths and replacing the creature as Captain. It was a bitter sentence, to serve ten years aboard the accursed vessel, especially after he had finally married Elizabeth in the midst of the very battle that had resulted in his near death.

It was the thought of Elizabeth that had kept Will's soul from hardening completely. The hope, idealistic though he often feared it might be, that she had waited for him haunted his waking dreams. He loved her still; how could he not? She was all he had in the world, and the image of Elizabeth as he'd last seen her, standing on the fading beach clad in an insubstantial black dress, was burned into his mind.

As he neared the beaches of Port Royal, he searched the approaching shore and cliffs for her figure. Even after ten years, he believed he'd still know her shape, even if she were miles away. There ahead, on one of the distant cliffs, a woman stood, her skirts blowing around her in the breeze from the sea. He knew immediately that it was her – Elizabeth - his wife. A shudder went through Will, and he did not bother sorting through the emotions behind it. He'd long ago given up on such things as fear and despair. For a man in his position, feelings like those would have led to madness in due time, and he'd shut the memory of them away inside himself.

Even love was something he was no longer accustomed to embracing, and when it swept over him as he drew closer to shore, it was with an intensity of desperate need that would have appalled him in a time when he'd been another man.

But he was home now, and Elizabeth was there waiting for him. He could be that man again, without a care in the world beyond the needs of his wife and their happiness. He gave the orders to weigh anchor and ready the longboat; the Captain was going ashore.

He did not notice the smaller figure standing alongside his wife.

Will headed towards his cabin to gather the few belongings he would take with him. There was little he'd accumulated during the recent years, but he checked anyway. His sword and pistols were in place, and the tri-corned hat he rarely wore, due to an unpleasant remembrance, was the only thing worth the time he'd taken to return to the barren room. He placed it on his head and turned around… only to leap backwards in surprise, drawing his sword in the blink of an eye.

A figure lurked in the corner of the room, nearly indistinguishable from the shadows. "Show yourself!" Will demanded, his voice rich with an authority gleaned thru his many hard years as Captain. There were few men who would not have been intimidated by the fierceness of his glare.

The person in the shadows, a woman to Will's surprise, merely laughed in a low, throaty voice. "Is dat any way to greet a friend, Will Turner?" she asked in amusement."

Will froze. "Tia Dalma?"p> 

She laughed again. "Aye - if you like, my sweet man. I will not waste time over such details as names."

Her voice was rich as honey, and Will shivered at it's caress. "What do you want?" he asked, sheathing his sword. A mere weapon would not hurt the sea goddess, but that did not mean he would not be on his guard. She was the reason, after all, that he needed to be here at all.

She was Calypso, goddess of the sea, and Will was not unfamiliar with her. He'd first met her when she'd just been Tia Dalma, a Caribbean sea witch Jack considered a friend, and they'd gone to her for help in finding the chest containing Davy Jones' heart, as well as the key to unlock it.

He hadn't known her true nature at that time, but soon he'd learn that it was she who had set Jones the task of guiding the souls of those who'd died at sea into the afterlife. Jones had been betrayed by Calypso, and had given up his duty only to bring a curse upon himself and his crew, turning them all into monstrosities of sea. The last time Will saw her, Calypso had just been freed from her human body prison, only to dissolve in anger into a swarm of rock crabs that flooded the ship before vanishing altogether.

He couldn't help but wonder, during his unwanted sentence as Captain of the _Dutchman_, if when she'd first met him in her swamp shack on a long ago night, she had seen his future. If she'd know, when she'd said he had a 'touch of destiny about him', that she knew he would end up under her control. It was a curiosity that weighed heavily on his mind and soul.

Although Will knew that he was technically under Calypso's control in his duty as Captain, this was the first time she'd come to him, and that made him extremely wary. She had not answered his question, save for a black-toothed smile. He stood still, watching as she circled him, eyes scanning his body.

"You have done well, Captain Turner," Calypso finally said when she'd crossed in front of him again. "You have served me faithfully, and without complaint, despite the difficulty of your situation."

Will remained silent.

"And now, Captain, it is time dat you returned to land… for a time."

This caught Will's attention, and he felt his rage beginning to build. "What do you mean, for a time?" he asked in a low, deadly voice.

A playful smile lit Calypso's face, and she tilted her head to one side. "Your terms are simple, Captain. One day ashore… and den after ten years, you may give up de sea, so long as you find your true love when you return to shore."

"Yes," Will struggled to maintain his control. "And Elizabeth is there, waiting for me to return."

"Aye, dat she is," Calypso agreed. "But do not forget… it is not enough dat she love you. Elizabeth Swann must remain faithful to you, even unto death."

Will took a step closer to the goddess. "Turner," he growled. "Not Swann. Not anymore. And are you implying that she has been unfaithful?" He was furious with whatever game Calypso was playing.

Calypso merely grinned enigmatically at him. "She has been true, but dat is not for me to decide. I am here only to remind you dat, should your love prove false to you, it is your duty to continue as Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_."

So that was it. "My term is through, my goddess," Will spat, beginning to walk away from her. "You have no more claim upon my soul. I will not be manipulated into doubting my wife, just so that you can keep your Captain."

Calypso's rum-rich laugh filled the cabin again. Very well, Captain Turner. You have 24 hours to prove your woman's faith. Just keep in mind, de _Dutchman_ need a Captain, and a normal life is unsuitable for one such as you. You have a destiny."

At those damningly familiar words, Will spun around, but Calypso had vanished. A knock at the cabin door startled him, and he flung it open, wide-eyed, and with one hand on his pistol before realizing that it was his father standing outside the portal. Closing his eyes for a moment to subdue his anxiety, Will opened them again to find Bootstrap staring at him oddly.

"You all right, Captain?" Bootstrap Bill asked his son.

Will nodded. "Of course." Straightening his shirt, he stepped out onto the deck. "Is everything ready?"

"It is," Bootstrap confirmed. "You're ready to go?"

Will's smile was real, and affectionate. "Immediately. Are you certain you won't come with me?" he asked.

Bootstrap looked down at the deck. "Nah," he said. "You need some time alone with your missus. When a new captain's been chosen…" he trailed off, staring back out to sea.

He stared at his father. "What will you do?" Will asked. 

The older man looked at his son. "I suspect I'll come ashore. I'm not quite ready to give up the ghost yet, Will. It's only…" he paused. "It's been a long time since I've been on land."

"Sick of the water?" Will asked wryly.

Bootstrap shrugged. "The sea… she's like a woman. You may tire of having her underfoot, even hate her sometimes, but the minute you're away from her, you'll do anything to have her back."

Will didn't answer, and his father expected no reply. The older pirate smiled and clapped a hand on his son's shoulder. "Off with you, Lad, and a fair wind at your back."

Will didn't have to be told twice.

Elizabeth ran. Her hand clasped tightly in her son's, they ran down the hills, through the streets, and down towards the docks. At last, panting with exhaustion, the two fell onto the abandoned beach where Elizabeth had said her final goodbyes to Will one evening a lifetime ago. She didn't know how she knew this was where he'd come ashore, but she did.

She was just regaining her breath when she heard his voice calling to her across the water. She stood in the sand, scanning the horizon, and there in a wooden longboat, Will was rowing as powerfully as he could.

Elizabeth didn't wait for him, and in that moment her son was forgotten, for he hadn't even been born yet. She was back on that same beach ten years earlier only this time, Will was not sailing away from her but towards her. Ripping off her boots as she ran, Elizabeth pounded into the waves not slowing until she was waist deep in the water, and still she pushed against the tide pulling her in every direction.

The salt water on her face was not the sea, but her tears, and she called out to Will, no longer able to see him above the growing waves breaking around her head. And then he was there, and she was in his arms. Will was in the water with her, kissing her lips and her face hungrily as she laughed and cried her relief at having him with her at long last.

Will carried his wife ashore, over the threshold of sea into land. Setting her down on her bare feet, he held her away from his body, eyes raking over her as though to memorize every new freckle on her skin. Her hands wandered over his face, his shoulders, trembling at the long forgotten sensation of his skin against hers.

A small voice behind them broke their trance. "Mother?"

Will's blood froze in his veins, and he found he couldn't move. Elizabeth's eyes widened and she turned slowly, revealing a small boy with golden hair, just the same as hers. Will couldn't think clearly, and though his eyes registered the sight of the boy in front of him, whom his wife was extending her hand to, he could not make sense of what he was seeing.

No. It wasn't true.

But even to his dulled mind, it was clear to Will that this _boy_ was not just any boy, but Elizabeth's _son_. There was a ringing in his ears, and Will realized that he was opening and closing his fist spasmodically. He had stopped taking in breath.

Elizabeth did not notice the change in Will's demeanor. Taking her son's hand in hers, she presented the boy to his father. "Will," she began formally. "I'd like you to meet William Turner, III… your son."

It took a moment, but slowly her words sank in. His son. _His_ son, his and Elizabeth's. Will examined the boy with an open mouth and frantic eyes, finally noticing the eyes, the cheekbones and the slope of the brow that without a doubt marked the child as his own. They had made a son.

Falling to his knees, Will let his breath flow weakly from his body. He could not stop staring at his boy. William. "Hello," he said finally."

William looked nervous. "Hello," he answered shyly.

"Oh, God." Will reached out and took William in his arms. The boy stiffened for a moment; then his small hands circled his father's neck, holding him tight. His son smelled like a young boy should; dirt and sweat from play mixed with the more sanitary smells of peppermint and lye. It was an aroma that would have brought tears to the eyes of any other man… any man who still possessed a heart within his chest.

Suddenly glaringly aware of his inadequacy, Will let go of his son. He stood awkwardly, taking his wife's hand in his and William's small one in the other. "Take me home," he asked, and they did.

The house was not the manor Elizabeth had lived in for all the years Will had known her, but it was obvious that she had made it into a home for herself and their son. It was the home of someone who loved the sea, and the theme whispered over and over throughout the rooms. In the sitting room on the bench of the pianoforte, Will found the antique chest that contained his still beating heart.

He ran his hand over the wood and the ornate lock as though caressing a lover. "I don't know what to do with it," he admitted.

Elizabeth put a hand on his arm. "Is it supposed to… go back?" she asked uncertainly.

Will shook his head. "I'm not sure… I think, eventually… when there's a new Captain.

William was watching them from the doorway, oddly subdued. Will, of course, had no experience with his son's behavior, and did not know any different. Tearing his eyes from the chest, he smiled at the boy who was watching his every move. "Will you show me around?" he asked softly.

Elizabeth smiled encouragingly, and William managed a nervous grin. He grabbed his father's hand, ignoring how cold it was and that the man flinched at the contact, and led him on a tour of their home.

He was a boy, and he showed his father his own room first, watching as the man examined the scrimshaw artwork he'd learned from sailors, and the strange array of knickknacks he'd been given by the many pirates he'd met over the years. When Will stopped in front of the pair of crossed swords that hung above his bed, William spoke. "They were my grandfather's," he said, going to stand by his dad. "Mother managed to get them for me before I was born. They're all I have of him."

Will nodded. "I remember them," he said. "I made them."

"You did?" William asked in surprise. His mother hadn't told him that.

Will smiled. "The blacksmith I worked for, Mr. Brown, he was rarely in a condition to do much work, so I ended up covering for him on a number of occasions." He gestured to the sword. "This set happens to be the first of my creations good enough to pass as expert craftsmanship. I don't know that I ever told Elizabeth," he added thoughtfully.

William smiled, gazing up at his swords with new wonder.

"I'll teach you to use them… if you'd like," Will added quickly, seeing a strange look come over his son's face.

"That's okay," William said. "I'm… Mother's already trained me. But you can help me get better," he offered. "I'm need to get really good before I can become a pirate."

"A pirate?" Will looked away from his son, and his eyes again fell on the shelves of exotic trinkets. "Do you see a lot of pirates around here?" he tried to ask nonchalantly.

William's eyes were bright. "Oh, yes!" he said. "Mother and I go help the pirate ships on the beach, whenever they come to Port Royal. I've learned how to tie knots, and climb the masts, and –"

"Is that so?" Will interrupted, stunned by the enthusiasm on his son's face. "Well, I'm sure you'll make a fine sailor someday, if that's what you want. Although, I don't know if piracy is the right kind of ambition for a child… but no matter. Why don't you finish showing me around?"

William closed his mouth quickly, unsure of what he had done wrong to cause the edge in his father's voice. "Okay," he agreed, but this time he did not take the man's hand.

Elizabeth was waiting for them in the bedroom, kneeling besides the trunk where they had stored all the clothing she'd either made or purchased for Will over the years. Will knelt beside her on the floor and placing his hand over hers on the lid, opened it to look inside. He pulled each item out one by one, examining it closely with a slight smile on his lips. Will said nothing all the while, but Elizabeth quietly gave each garment's history, as if she had stored the memories of the clothing in place of the ones she did not have of her husband.

Sorting out one set of clothing from among the assortment, Will put the rest back as neatly as before. "I suppose I should wash before supper," he said.

Elizabeth smiled. "The basin is already in the kitchen, we just need to fetch and heat the water." Turning to William, who was again lingering in the doorway, she asked, "Would you start bringing in water? I'll be there to help in just a moment."

Son gone, Elizabeth leaned close to Will again, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. "I missed you," she breathed. For a moment, they sat in silence, then "he's a wonderful boy, our son. He's sweet, and honest, and he's so smart. You'll be proud."

"Yes," Will said. "He's… I never dreamed I had a son."

"He was my miracle. God, Will, I don't know how I would have survived if not for him."

Calypso's words echoed in Will's head momentarily, and he brushed them aside with an audible grunt that made Elizabeth eye him worriedly. "What is it?" she asked.

"It's nothing," he tried to smile. "Did you know he wants to be a pirate?"

Elizabeth bit her lower lip, searching her husband's face. "Yes… don't be disappointed, Will. I couldn't very well dissuade him, seeing as how we're both pirates ourselves."

"Former pirates," he corrected, but without anger. He sighed. "I suppose it doesn't matter what I think in any case. I haven't been here to have a say." Realizing how his words sounded, he smiled softly and added, "You've done well with him. I can't imagine how… I'm sorry I wasn't here, Elizabeth."

She smiled, but a troubled expression lingered. The sound of William's return with the first bucket of water reminded Elizabeth of the task at hand, and as Will helped her to her feet, he saw her face clear of worry.

The basin was filled with little trouble under the efforts of three sets of hands, and as Will began preparing for his bath, Elizabeth took William to his room to find something to occupy him with.

"But, why can't I help? Like I did with Jack?" William asked.

Elizabeth flipped through the pages of one of William's lesson books. "Because it is time for you get back to your studies – you had quite a holiday while Mr. Sparrow was here, and besides," she added. "I'll be there to help him. He doesn't need the both of us underfoot."

_Captain_ Sparrow," William grumbled. "And I wouldn't get in the way."

"Of course you wouldn't," Elizabeth said gently. "I know that. It's just… I haven't seen your father in ages and I'd like to have him to myself – just for a moment." She knelt beside him. "Can you understand that?"

William furrowed his brow. "Yes," he said finally. "Alright then."

Making sure he was truly content, Elizabeth gave him his assignment and kissed him on the forehead. "You're a magnificent boy, William," she told him.

He gave her a half smile, biting his bottom lip in the same way his mother always did. After a brief hesitation, William met her eyes. "I don't think Father thinks so," he admitted quietly.

Elizabeth's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Whatever gave you such an impression? Why wouldn't your father love you?"

William shrugged one shoulder, looking down at his notebook. "I don't know," he mumbled.

"William," Elizabeth said kindly, turning her son's face to hers. She looked at him for a minute before continuing. "There's no possible way he couldn't love such a wonderful boy. Give him time… it's been a long day, and if he's seemed to be…" She thought a moment. "Just give him a few days to get settled again. We can't imagine what it's been like for him, being away for so long."

William smiled softly, and nodded. Standing up, he threw his arms around his mother's shoulders and gave her a tight squeeze.

Leaving her son's room, Elizabeth paused outside his door with her hand on the handle. She had always pictured her reunion with Will to be full of nothing but joy. She had somehow managed to overlook a few of the smaller details, and the result of that oversight was now being made apparent.

She arrived in the kitchen with a concerned look on her face. "What's the matter?" Will asked, he was already in the tub.

Elizabeth sighed, not looking at him as she sat down on the adjacent stool. "I think I may be a bad mother," she admitted.

Will quirked an eyebrow. "What?" he asked. "Where did this come from?"

"I didn't realize how awkward this would be for William. He needs time to get to know you, but you're his father – I think I just expected everything to work itself out," she admitted. "He's worried that you don't, or won't like him, and I'm afraid that there's something I could have done to make it easier-"

Will interrupted her, standing in the basin and drawing her into his arms. "Don't," he whispered, holding her close. "It's not your fault. I'm the one who's handled things awkwardly, not you. It's natural William will feel uncomfortable at first, but we'll just all have to do our best." He kissed the top of her head, stroking her hair. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. Sorry to have put you through all of this."

Elizabeth laughed chokingly. "All of this?" she wiped her eyes. "All of this is wonderful. I have a good life," she said.

Will couldn't help wondering if that were true – if she wouldn't have rather continued her life as the Pirate King of the Brethren Court if she'd had a choice. But these doubts were dashed from his mind when he realized that Elizabeth was looking at him, and that he was naked.

Elizabeth's breath had stilled in her throat as she stared at her husband's nude body. Her hand reached out shakily to trace the contours of his chest, hearing him gasp as her fingers made contact with the smooth, tanned skin. Will lifted a trembling hand and stopped her explorations, pressing a heated kiss against her knuckles.

"Elizabeth," he whispered.

His tone of voice made her stop, and her eyes flew to his. A blush was rising in her face as she read the hesitation in those blue depths. "I'm sor-" she began, but again he cut her off, this time with a finger pressed against her mouth."

"No," he whispered. "Don't apologize." His face was heavy with sorrow. "It was so soon after they took my heart last time. I've been without it for ten years and it's made me…" his eyes begged her to understand. "I want to wait – until I'm whole again. I don't even know if that's possible now, but you deserve more than just a hollow shell of a man to call your husband." He kissed her sweetly. "Please understand?"

Elizabeth tried to shake off her hurt. She did understand, but it didn't make it any easier. "Yes," she whispered.

He moved away from her, and sank back into the tub. Elizabeth sat back down on the stool, and tried to be content with just watching as Will scrubbed at his limbs with the bar of lye soap as though trying to rid himself of the memory of the dirt as well as its physical presence. There was an emptiness in her heart that pained her, and she balled her hand into a fist, pressing it against where she thought the pain was in an attempt to make it vanish. This was not how she expected things to be at all."

When it was nearly time for supper, William decided that he'd had enough of his lessons and he made his way into the kitchen to find his parents.

His father was still in the bath, although he appeared to be nearly done, as his skin had turned a bright pink from the scrubbing. His mother sat beside him, laughing at something he had said and neither of them noticed William standing there. He watched them for a moment.

They were leaning close to each other, holding hands, and William noticed a smile on his mother's face that was different from any he'd seen her wear before. He felt a rush of panic, and realized for the first time that now that his father was home, his mother didn't need him. William studied what little he could see of his father's face and thought to himself, not only was he unneeded, but maybe his father would not want him around at all.

Though his mother had missed it, William had noticed the strange anger in his father's face in the moments before she introduced them, and it had scared him in a way he would never have thought possible. What if the older man had anticipated coming home and having his wife all to himself, and had instead found an unwelcome surprise in William? His blood ran cold at the thought. He knew his mother loved him, but he understood now that she could never have chosen to have a child and raise him alone while her husband was away for ten years.

His face was pale, and it was this face that Elizabeth noticed lingering in the doorway. Realizing with shock how late it had gotten, she jumped up to check on the stew she had been cooking for her obviously starving boy, not realizing that it was fear and not hunger that had twisted his insides so horribly; she was too busy sorting through her own confusions.

William watched in silence as his father stepped from the tub and dried himself. Pulling on his fresh clothing, Will wondered at his son's quietness. "I was a quiet boy too, when I was your age," he tried awkwardly.

William nodded in response, and saw his mother look towards him. They both knew he wasn't normally quiet at all.

Will cleared his throat and tried a new subject. "William tells me you've taught him how to use a sword," he said to Elizabeth. There was evident pride in his voice but his wife noticed the hint of trepidation there as well.

She was pleased when William answered for her. "We practice one hour every day, except on the weekends," he said. "She says I'm getting really good."

Placing bowls of thick stew in front of each of them and setting a plate of bread on the table, Elizabeth smiled and ruffled her son's hair as she took her seat. "No, she say's he's almost as good as his father."

Will nodded, with a hint of a smile on his face. "That's high praise indeed," he joked. "Tell me all that she's taught you."

And for nearly an hour, things began to improve within the little family. William's enthusiasm for the subject grew with his father's encouragement, and he went into great detail about their training routines, the mistakes he'd learned to correct and the one's he was still working on.

Elizabeth's anxiety began to lessen as she watched her husband and son talk. Will was so very changed by his experiences, she could tell, but she hoped with every fiber of her being that once his heart was returned to its proper place that things would get better for them.

It was strange, sitting here with Will in the room. It was like a strange dream. Elizabeth found herself unsure of how to act, and she could sense an edge in her husband that had grown considerably rougher while he'd been away. He had always been rather solitary, keeping all of his emotions inside, but now he seemed almost as hard as stone, and while there was some warmth there, Elizabeth was afraid of what she would find if she looked too close. She felt like a stranger with Will, putting on her best smile and doing all of the things she knew were expected of her. She loved him still, this changed man, but it was an unfamiliar love she knew she'd have to weather. Her words to William had applied to herself as well… they all needed time to adjust.

Just at that moment when Elizabeth was telling herself that everything would be all right, William said the one thing that Elizabeth knew in an instant would change everything.

"And when Mother was play fighting with Uncle Jack, she actually forced him over-"

"Uncle Jack?" Will's spine stiffened and he turned to stare at Elizabeth. "Jack _Sparrow_?" he asked.

Elizabeth nodded hesitantly, and opened her mouth to explain.

Will didn't give her a chance. He stood up so that he was practically looming over her. "What was Jack Sparrow doing here?" he asked in a low voice.

William looked at his parents in confusion. "Uncle Jack came -"

"He's not your uncle," Will said sternly. "And I'm still curious as to why he's such a familiar presence in this house that my son would have occasion to address him as such." He was looking at Elizabeth as though he'd never seen her before.

Elizabeth didn't know how to even begin to explain the odd circumstances surrounding Jack's sudden arrival, and many of the details she would prefer left unmentioned; especially in the face of Will's extreme reaction. "Jack appeared a few days ago," she started. "He just showed up and William found him on the beach…"

"The beach," Will clarified, "where you take our son to learn how to be a filthy pirate?" The recent visit from Calypso was swimming in his brain and he knew he was overreacting, but Will couldn't suppress the suspicion that had risen in him. Jack and Elizabeth had a past, after all.

Outrage rose in Elizabeth's face, but William beat her to a response. "Pirate's aren't filthy," he said, jumping to his feet. "Mother is King of the Pirates and she's wonderful, and the men we've met have always been good to us." He stared at his father angrily, but looking as though he would cry. "And Uncle Jack is the best pirate ever! He told me stories, and played games with me, and someday he's going to let me join his crew!"

Will leaned over the table. "Jack Sparrow is a base-souled devil, and no son of mine will serve under his flag." He was breathing heavily. He needed to regain some control. "Go to your room, William," he said quietly.

William opened his mouth to retort but Elizabeth stood up quickly. "William, please," she said firmly. "Go to your room. I'll come to see you to bed shortly."

Shooting a look of betrayal at his mother, William glared one last time at his father before hurrying from the kitchen.

Will waited until he heard the boy's bedroom door close. "Quite the young cockerel you've got there," he said.

"How dare you?" Elizabeth said in an angry even voice.

Will whirled to face his wife. "How dare _I_?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, you. You had no call to speak so horribly to him. He's just a boy," she said. "If you're angry about Jack, you can blame me, not him."

"I wasn't blaming-"

"No, but you did scare the life out of him." Elizabeth was furious. "And you've no reason to be upset about Jack's visit anyway," she said. "I didn't tell you because there hasn't been time. He showed up two days ago and one of the neighbors found him here. We said he was my brother so as not to cause a scandal, and he stayed until this afternoon when he could use your return as an excuse to leave again."

Will stared at Elizabeth. He wanted to believe her, but he couldn't help wondering if Jack had been the reason Calypso had appeared in his cabin that very afternoon. "And he was a perfect gentleman?" he asked with sarcasm.

"Even if he weren't," Elizabeth answered, "you should have a little more faith in me. I did manage without my husband for ten years, I hardly think I would ruin all that within the last two days."

Will bit his angry tongue, knowing she was right, and that he was out of line. His experiences with Jack Sparrow had taught him to be on his guard, especially where Elizabeth was concerned, and although he hated the idea that the man had been in his home, there was nothing he could do about it. "I'm sorry," he said, releasing the tightness in his shoulders. "I had no excuse…"

Elizabeth resisted forgiveness for a moment. Then, "I understand," she nodded. "It's been a very long day for all of us. Why don't you clean up the dishes while I check on William, and then we'll get some sleep."

Will complied, and Elizabeth went after her son. Opening his door, she softly called his name but the boy didn't answer her. He was curled on his side, eyes shut, apparently fast asleep. She gently brushed the hair from his face and kissed his cheek, whispering, "good-night."

The door to his room closed again, and William opened his eyes. Listening to her footsteps retreat down the hall, he quietly got out of bed and pulled the covering off of his pillow. Quickly filling it with clothes and a few odds and ends, William at last stood on his bed and took down the pair of swords from the wall. Pausing, he looked at them for a long moment before at last discarding them on the floor. He'd get new ones, better ones.

Carefully opening the window with as little noise as possible, William slipped from the room and out into the night. There was plenty of time before sunrise would carry Jack and the _Black Pearl_ away from Port Royal, and on this voyage, there would be one additional member of the crew. If he were lucky, William would be long gone before anyone noticed him missing.

She was in his arms again, and her hands were tightly entwined in his hair. His lips were on hers, and she kissed him with a hunger born of loss and longing, and of years spent without him. Her skin was warm to the touch, and as she traced the muscles of his abdomen, the soft hiss of his breath against her ear further enflamed her until she could barely stand to be so near.

And yet she could not get close enough, even as her clothes melted away from her body and his bare flesh melted against her own, he was still too far from her. She mewled softly in agony, and he laughed silkily into her hair, whispering his love in an almost reverent voice. She cried back her own impatiently, pulling his face to hers as gently, fluidly, he entered her body.

Finally, perfectly, she was home; she was at peace. "Jack," she whispered.

And in her dream, Jack smiled and answered back, "Lizzie, my love…."


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: This is not completely proof-read, but I figured you'd want the final chapter as soon as it was done. I will go back and edit any errors I find later, but in the meantime, enjoy! Just a reminder, I'm flying to New York tomorrow, and I will start the sequel during the flight. I hope to be able to post while I'm on vacation, and if I can I should have the first chapter of the sequel up no LATER than Monday, but perhaps on Sunday, depending on the timing. Worst case scenario, I can't post, and I'll then post two or three chapters at once when I get home on Thursday. This means a few days of waiting after the tragedy sob but that's the way it goes._

I really quickly want to thank each and every person who read, rated and/or reviewed this story. I've had so much fun talking with a couple of you, and your words of encouragement and your excitement has meant more to me than I can ever say. I won't mention anyone by name because I don't want to leave anyone out, and every single comment made a huge difference in my writing. One person posted on every chapter on two different sites, and her enthusiasm made me want to write faster, especially for her. Another poster (or two) engaged me in lengthy discussions about the psychology of the characters, which made me dance with nerd-like glee (this resembles the Snoopy dance, in case you were wondering). Other's made comments that were so spot on exactly what I was intending to portray, that I laughed and cried and danced and sent many silent blessings their way - I hope they reach you!

Finally, I want to tell anyone who is interested that at the very end of this fic, I will post another author's note giving a brief summary of the real story of the Flying Dutchman. It's the version I know, and of course there are several variations, but if you want to know where PotC got their inspiration from, I'll give a quick retelling. Again, thanks for all your support. I can't wait to hear what you think of this chapter. It's the longest of them all and I'm particularly proud of it. Please feel free to send my your anger, sorrow, love, pleasure... anything you feel like sharing. See you at the sequel! Love - Kimberlee

_One last thing - it's late, so I'll answer any comments I haven't already at another time. I WILL respond though! Send an e-mail address if you like as well._

**Chapter Ten**

Jack was drunk. Very drunk. Jack was usually drunk most of the time, but he could only remember ever being this drunk once or twice before, and neither experience was worth the time he'd taken trying to recall them in the first place. And if being very drunk wasn't bad enough, Jack has also recently come to the realization that his crew was doing everything possible to avoid him, which meant that he was also in a very bad mood. Not even Gibbs had dared to ask him for anything more than their heading, and whatever Jack had grumbled in reply seemed to have been more than enough.

So Captain Jack Sparrow stood on the deck of the _Black Pearl_, scowling at a flock of birds that soared alongside the ship as if mocking him by announcing their lingering proximity to land – a suspicion made worse by the fact that they were laughing, "ha-haha-ha-haah." It was only an hour since dawn – one hour since he'd rousted the entire crew from their hammocks to prepare to sail away from Port Royal – but Jack still felt that they should be at least beyond the reach of those damnable disease-ridden fowl.

"Mr. Gibbs!" Jack bellowed. Then louder, "Mr. Gibbs!"

Gibbs appeared at his side in record time, huffing slightly. "Yes, Captain?"

Jacked wheeled on him. "Explain to me why those pestilent feathered beasts are still marking our broadside?"

Gibbs glanced at the gulls. "We're making fair time, Captain," he reported. "They just matching us, 'tis all."

Jack narrowed his eyes. "Tell me, Mr. Gibbs," he asked slowly. "What ship am I on?"

Gibbs stared at Jack in astonishment. "Why, the _Black Pearl_, of course."

Jack took a step closer. "And isn't said ship supposed to be the fastest in the Caribbean, nay, the world? Nigh uncatchable?"

Finally, he saw where this was going. "Aye, Captain," Gibbs said carefully.

There was a brief moment of silence. "They _why_, Mr. Gibbs, is there a bloody flock of _Larus atricilla_, keeping pace with my ship?" His voice had started dangerously low, but by the end of the question, Jack was screaming. Pulling one pistol from its place at his waist, Jack lifted the gun into the air and fired towards the birds without once looking. Within seconds, one of the birds landed on the deck, dead.

The entire crew had fallen silent at the sound of Jack's rage, and for a minute everyone simply stared at the fallen gull.

"Full canvas!" Gibbs shouted finally, and the call was echoed up and down the decks as pirates scrambled up into the rigging to lower the rest of the ships large black sails. Slowly their speed increased, and Jack remained on deck, watching his stalkers until the surviving birds fell well enough behind.

Grunting at a terrified crewman that he'd be in his cabin, not caring if the man understood, Jack stumbled into the dark room, slamming the door behind him. He was, without a doubt, the most pathetic creature alive, and for the moment he didn't care. Falling onto his bunk, Jack would have prayed for sleep if he believed his pleas would be answered. Instead, he groaned for a while, resting the smooth, cool surface of the rum bottle against his forehead.

Trying not to think about Elizabeth, Jack tried instead to think about what he would do now that they were back at sea where he belonged. The crew had been inactive for too long. If Jack were to keep favor within the democracy that was a pirate ship, he would have to prove his worth as Captain by providing his men with something of a shiny nature soon. He was not for lack of options; treasure abounded within his domain of the Caribbean. Even a bit of the pillage and plunder would do to satisfy their black hearts, but Jack couldn't seem to make up his mind.

He didn't bother looking at his compass. By now Jack knew exactly which direction it would point and no good could come of that. Upending the bottle of rum into his mouth, Jack couldn't stop Elizabeth's image from coming into his head; her, sitting in that chair at his desk defending his father's affections.

He was a fool, and this time he knew it; and it was no act.

Tossing the emptied bottle to the other side of his cabin to lie with its brothers, Jack crawled out of bed. He was out of rum again. He squinted against the wall of bright sunlight that accosted him at the door and lurched awkwardly across the deck and down into the hold. Below the room where the night crew now slept in their hammocks, Jack found to his delight, a freshly restocked supply of rum. His boys had not been idle while in Port Royal.

Pulling three bottles from their slots at random, Jack was about to clumsily reach for another when he heard something shuffle along the floor further back in the room. Jack froze, remembering another time he'd come here for rum, only to find a barnacle-encrusted envoy from Davy Jones' crew come to collect on a debt Jack owed. Even the fact that it had been Bootstrap Bill bearing the bad news, Jack was instantly spooked by the memory.

Shifting his bottles delicately in his arms, Jack slunk around the shelves of booze, slowly making his way towards the corner where his old friend had appeared to him before. It was dark, and Jack swore quietly under his breath, realizing that he'd left the lantern sitting on a barrel on the other side of the room. Holding all three bottles of rum by their necks in one hand, Jack went back for it, holding it high before him like a shield.

He saw nothing lurking among the barrels and shadows, and he sincerely hoped it was only a rat. Slowing reaching out, Jack began to move the nearest barrel to see into the corner.

A golden blond head sat huddled against the wall, not looking up from an incredibly cramped position. Jack stopped, staring down at the boy. "William?" he breathed in alarm. Two brown eyes finally met his, and Jack closed his eyes in relief and a little embarrassment.

"Hi," William answered uncertainly.

Jack handed him two bottles of rum. "Hold these," he said. Turning around, Jack suddenly stopped, and turned back, eyeing the boy warily. "What has your mother told you about rum?" he asked.

William looked confused. He shrugged, "nothing."

"No mention of its incendiary properties?"

"Huh?"

"Good!"

At ease, Jack returned to the shelves and pulled three more bottles out of their places, and telling William to follow him, he led the way back upstairs and across the deck to his cabin.

Jack seemed oblivious to the stares of his crew as he and William appeared from below, but William noticed their whispers, and tried not to meet their eyes in shame. He didn't know if they'd be so glad to see him, now that he was a stowaway on their ship. He'd heard that pirates were touchy about those kind of things.

Following Jack into the semi-darkness of his cabin, William waited as the pirate carefully lined up the bottles of rum along the desk, adding William's two to the collection last. Looking around, the boy noticed the small pile of empty bottles collecting in the corner, and he wondered if Jack's subdued reaction to his appearance wasn't just a calm before the storm.

"Now then." Finished with his arrangements, Jack sat down behind his desk and gestured for William to take the chair opposite him. William waited nervously as Jack fixed him with an unwavering stare. After a minute, Jack asked, "have you eaten?"

William blushed, and nodded guiltily. "I stole an apple from one of the barrels below," he admitted.

Jack nodded. "One of the red ones?" he asked.

"Green," William said.

"Good," Jack replied. "Those aren't mine."

William frowned at Jack. This was not quite how he'd expected this meeting to go. He had imagined that Jack would be angry, furious that he'd run away and then William would have had to do something amazing to prove to the Captain that he would be a useful addition to the crew, just to prevent Jack from taking him straight back home. Besides that first moment when he'd discovered William behind the barrels, Jack didn't even seem surprised to see him there.

Jack leaned back in his chair and began cleaning his fingernails with the blade of his knife. "Suppose you tell me what you're doing on my ship," he said, as though it were a suggestion.

Still confused, but at last on more predictable ground, William told Jack everything that had happened since the man had walked out of their house the previous afternoon. He talked about his father's return and strange behavior towards his son. He talked about his fears that his father didn't love him, and that now that the older man was back, his worry that his mother wouldn't need him anymore either. Finally, William told Jack about the fight he'd had with his father, and finished up with his decision to set out on his own now that the man was back.

"I want to be a pirate… like you," William said. "I'll do anything you want. I'll work hard – I'll even scrub the decks day and night to prove to you I'm tough enough to join your crew. Please, Uncle Jack," he begged. "Please don't take me back there!"

Jack said nothing at all throughout William's story, only nodding occasionally to show that he understood. A strange burning sensation had begun flooding his soul, and yet he remained strangely calm on the outside.

He looked at the child in front of him, asking for something from Jack that was far bigger than just a job. What William wanted was a place to belong. It made Jack sad to see his own childhood fears reflected in the boy before him, and yet, it touched him too, that of all the people in the world, William had come running to him. It made Jack feel fiercely protective.

"It's not easy work, being a pirate," Jack said. "There's hard work to be done, and at all hours of the day and night. You'll have lots to learn, and mistakes can cost the entire crew. You'll never be sure when you'll be getting paid next, and our food never seems to remain good long enough for our needs." He stared at William intently. "And if you do this, your Mum will be sorely heartbroken. Are you sure this is what you want to do, Mate?"

William did not look as certain as he had felt a moment ago, and Jack suspected it was due mostly to the mention of Elizabeth. Still, he answered slowly, "I can do it. You'll see – I'll make you proud."

Jack tried not to wince at those heartbreaking words. "Well then," he said, "first we'll need to give you a name. Just plain 'William' won't do for a pirate… any suggestions?" he asked.

William thought. "Well, I once thought of calling myself Red-handed Jack," he admitted with a grin.

Jack grinned in return. "Jack's taken, mate," he said. "What about… Bloody William Cutlass, since you're a right daft hand with a sword," he suggested.

William repeated the name to himself, rolling it across his tongue. He smiled. "I like it."

"Good!" Jack said. He reached over and picked up a bottle of rum. Pulling the stopper out with his teeth, Jack set the drink in front of the boy. Picking up a second bottle and uncorking it too, he held it up in salute. "A toast, to Bloody William Cutlass… drink up, mate."

Jack took a deep swig of his drink and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. William hadn't moved. He sat still staring at the pirate. "What's wrong, Cutlass?" Jack asked.

William stared at the bottle. "Mother wouldn't like it if I drank that, would she?" he asked.

Jack chuckled. "We're pirates," he said. "What our mother's don't know won't hurt us." He lifted his bottle again. "You do want to be a pirate, right, Mate?"

A sad look crossed William's face at the mention of his mother, but he set his jaw determinedly when Jack challenged him. Picking up the bottle with both hands, William met the other man's eyes and took his first sip.

Jack just grinned.

There were few things in Jack Sparrow's life that he could say that he had done 'right'. He was not a bloodthirsty man by nature, and it was such qualities as this that had at one time cost him the _Pearl_ to a mutinous crew. Sacking Port Nassau without firing a single shot had been a stroke of pure circumstance, and getting rescued by rum runners after three days stranded on an island was just another example of the utter dumb luck that had followed Jack and caused his star to rise in prominence among his pirate brethren.

It had not taken much alcohol to send William into a deep, dreamless sleep, and although Jack knew it wasn't the most brilliant plan in the world to get a nine year-old drunk on his finest rum, he had no doubt about what he should do next. Scooping up the boy in his arms and depositing him on his bunk, Jack stumbled from the room as quietly as he could, making his way over to the water barrel kept on deck.

Luckily the water had been refreshed during their time in port, so there was only the faintest hint of mildew as he dunked his head inside. Shaking himself like a dog, Jack ignored the protests of those men caught in the spray and went in search of Gibbs.

The older pirate was sleeping in his hammock below deck, holding tightly to his burlap teddy bear. Jack stared for a moment before upending him onto the floor. Gibbs snarled in outrage before recognizing his attacker. "Something I can do for you, Captain?" he asked with a restrained growl.

"Yes," Jack said as he headed back towards the stairs. "You can turn this ship around, tout de suite; we're going back to Port Royal."

"Back?" Gibbs sputtered as he struggled up from the floor. "You want to go back? What in the name of the Holy Father and Mother, do you want to do that for?"

Jack didn't answer, but led Gibbs back to his cabin, the First mate calling after him the entire way. When he reached his private quarters, Jack looked his friend in the eyes and opened the door for the other man to look inside.

Gibbs stopped his questions. "Gut me for a preacher," he swore quietly.

Pulling the door shut again, Jack took a few steps away toward the nearest railing and leaned against it. Gibbs took up a position at his side. "What are you planning, Jack?" he asked.

Jack was thoughtful. "Take him home to his mum," he said absently.

Gibbs waited. "And Elizabeth?" he prompted.

A pause. "She won't be happy with the whelp," Jack told Gibbs. "He'll keep her tied down. She needs her freedom."

"And you think you're the man to give her that?"

Jack shook his head. "There's only two things I could ever offer Elizabeth," he said. "One of them is the freedom to be whomever she wants, and to live however she sees fit," he answered morosely. "Freedom is the only cross one should ever willing burden another person with."

As Jack walked away, he heard Gibbs call after him, "what's the second thing?"

Jack pretended not to hear. It was a question he wouldn't answer.

"Oh God… oh God," Elizabeth sobbed. She was kneeling on the floor in the middle of her son's room, clutching his cold pillow to her chest. William was gone. "What kind of a mother am I?"

Will stood beside her, helpless and awkwardly silent. He tried to place a hand on her shoulder, but Elizabeth jerked away from his touch, burying her face into the pillow. "Elizabeth," he said quietly, "we'll find him… but you have to get up."

She shook her head. "He was so upset last night… I should have stayed with him…."

Will sighed. "That was my fault," he admitted.

"Yes," Elizabeth sniffled horribly. "It was."

Stung, Will walked away to stare out the window over the fields. "We don't know when he left, but he can't have gone far," he said at last. "Does he have any friends he'd go to, or…." he trailed off lamely. Not for the first time, Will was faced with just how much he'd lost during the past ten years. As pained as he was by Elizabeth's words, she was right. He had been the one to upset William and drive him from their home, and now he didn't even know where to begin looking for him. He didn't know who his son's friends were, or even if he had any. There was so much he didn't know about his family, and every minute he felt more and more out of place, even with Elizabeth.

Time is an enemy to everyone, but even during his ten years of servitude, Will had never resented it more than he did now. While the last decade had felt agonizingly slow in its passing, it was only now that he could truly see the damage it had inflicted on them. He had tried to force new people into an old mold and like ill-fitting clothes, the only choices now were to either mend, or discard.

Calming slightly, Elizabeth said, "there are a few children in town, but I'm sure their mother's would have let me know if - "

"We'll go see for ourselves," he said. "Maybe he snuck in while they were sleeping and they don't know he's there. We'll talk to the children, and if that doesn't work, we'll talk to the other neighbors. We'll search the entire town if we have to."

Elizabeth stood and reluctantly placed the pillow back on William's bed, smoothing the wrinkles with a trembling hand. Folding her arms across her stomach, she turned to Will, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. As soon as their eyes met, Elizabeth's tears began to fall again. "Oh, Will," she said. "What's happened?"

Will knew she wasn't just talking about William. She was talking about them. He held her tightly, kissing the top of her head. "We'll find him," he promised her.

William was not at the home of Tom Dobbins, nor those of Johnny Langley, Harry Bristol, or Molly Lovell. None of the neighbors had seen the boy either, but most of them joined Elizabeth and her husband in searching the nearby barns, wells, or any other place they imagined a small child might get to.

For hours, William's name echoed through the streets, and though none could remember seeing or hearing anything out of the ordinary the previous night, all of the shopkeepers promised to ask every customer for news of the boy, or of any strangers who might have taken him.

For Elizabeth, their search had taken on an aspect of shame. Her failure to care for her son could not help but be displayed for everyone in the community to see, but although she was aware of the whispered questions and pitying looks, she found she couldn't seem to care. She wore no cloak, and she turned aside each offer to make her more comfortable. Her tears had long since dried, but until William was found safe, Elizabeth would not spare a moment's thought for her self.

Something was broken inside of her, and she felt it like a fractured rib, poking sharply underneath her skin. Her body was all harsh edges, and as she looked around for Will, who was quietly thanking the butcher for promising to keep an eye out, Elizabeth felt a burble of hysterical laughter threatening to explode from her.

Just yesterday, everything had been wonderful. She and William had been happy, and until Jack left them forever, Elizabeth had felt more peaceful than she had in years. Now Will was home, and everything was supposed to have gotten even easier. They had fought – literally, fought – for the right to love each other and be together. Well, they were together now, only it was turning out not to be as simple a thing as it had once seemed.

She felt guilty for blaming Will, but in her heartache she hadn't let go of her anger yet. He was trying, she could see it in the harsh angles of his face, but it was one of the eternal flaws of mankind that they will forever misunderstand one another and hurt the ones they love in their ignorance. Elizabeth felt pain in her heart for him too, and when he came back outside the butcher's store, shaking his head sorrowfully as he reached her side, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into his chest.

Will stiffened in surprise a moment before returning the embrace, whispering meaninglessly in her ear. He lifted Elizabeth's chin, and noted that her cheeks were still dry, and kissed her softly. Her hands tightened in the fabric of his short coat, and he pulled her closer.

A murmur of voices began to rise all around them, and someone called out, "well, there he is!"

Elizabeth pulled away from Will, searching desperately to see if they could possibly mean William. Sarah Jenson ran to her and said, "Elizabeth! He's found! He's all right! He's with Mr. Jackson!"

Will looked around in confusion and his eyes fell on a man whom he'd never seen before, carrying William in his arms. The boy had obviously only just woken up, and was looking around in shock at the army of people cheering his safe return. He clutched tightly at the neck of his gentleman carrier, and Will was about to ask Elizabeth who he was when she suddenly flew from his side, screaming a familiar name.

"Jack!" Elizabeth nearly collided with him so frantic was she to get to her son. Jack handed William over and she held him tight.

"I believe this belongs to you," Jack said in a calm voice.

Will stared in shock and horror as he suddenly realized that the man whom he still hardly recognized was Jack Sparrow.

Elizabeth sank to her knees, still holding her son. "He was with you the whole time?" she asked relieved.

Jack nodded, keeping his face blank. "William stowed away on my ship. I only found him this morning, or I would have brought him home sooner. We were already a few leagues away by the time we had opportunity to come about.

Will couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the stranger, for although it _was_ Jack, this was a Jack he had never seen before. Not only were his clothes clean, and surprisingly similar to Will's own garments, he was also well groomed, with no make-up, beads, or other trinkets to speak of. Even his hair had been tamed into a ponytail beneath a dark knit cap.

But it wasn't just his appearance that changed Jack completely from the wobbly-legged pirate whom Will had come to know; it was his manner as well. His speech, his walk, even the way he carried himself was utterly foreign. If he hadn't known any better, Will would have sworn this was not Jack at all, but someone else entirely.

And then again…

"Is that rum I smell?"

For the first time, William looked up at him. In his eyes were a mixture of emotions; fear, sorrow, anger, guilt, and yes, even love. Will felt a wave of relief.

"Jack tricked me," William accused with both betrayal and admiration in his voice. "He gave me rum so I'd pass out and wouldn't know he was bringing me home."

Will was furious, but he could see the challenge in his son's eyes. "Well," he said, masking his anger, "I'm sure your Uncle did what he thought was best."

William was silent, weighing his father's answer. Then he threw himself into his father's arms, hugging him tightly, but briefly before returning to his mother's arms.

Will's eyes met Jack's, and he knew the pirate wasn't fooled by his civility.

"Hello, brother," Jack said with just the barest hint of amusement.

Will nodded, and held out his hand to shake Jack's. He _was_ grateful to him for bringing William home, but there was just too much residual animosity built up between them for anything more than an act.

Their neighbors were all worked up with excitement. Not only was Captain Turner home, but the missing boy had been recovered safe and sound, and when someone suggested celebrating neither Elizabeth nor Will had the courage to refuse the kind people who had worked so hard to help them all morning.

In a matter of minutes, the local inn was alive with people, chatting merrily and eating and drinking as though it were a holiday. Elizabeth sat in the center of it all, holding William in her lap as though she would never let him go again. She still felt a strange anxiety that if she did let him go, she would never see him again. Will sat at the table next to her, chatting with several of the men about Port Royal. She heard him ask after old Mr. Brown, and mention his thoughts on returning to work as a blacksmith.

Even with her family close to her, whole once more, Elizabeth was distracted. Her eyes darted around the room, and those who came to talk with her soon gave up when she couldn't manage to stay with the conversation.

She was searching for Jack. She knew that he hadn't left yet; she had seen Mrs. Ralston talking animatedly just a few minutes ago, before he'd managed to disappear again. Elizabeth was afraid he'd sneak out before she got the opportunity to thank him for what he'd done, and she needed badly to do so.

Smoothing her son's hair, she smiled when he looked up at her.

"He's over there," William said, pointing towards a dark corner. Peering intently, she could just make out Jack's face in the darkness over a mug of what was probably rum.

Elizabeth looked at her son. "How did you know who I was looking for?" she asked.

William shrugged, and played with a loose strand of her hair. "Did he treat you well?" she asked curiously.

He frowned slightly. "I suppose," he said at last. "I wanted to stay, but he did what would make you happy."

Elizabeth laughed at the idea. "Why would you think that?"

"Because he always does."

Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt her face warm a little. Hiding her blush in her own mug, Elizabeth looked up to see Jack winding his way through the room. Towards the door.

William noticed too. "Uncle Jack always does what makes himself happy, doesn't he, Mother?"

"Yes," Elizabeth answered, trying to keep track of Jack in the crowd. He'd been stopped by Mrs. Jenson.

"I bet that's because he never had anyone to do it for him," William commented.

Elizabeth nodded. "I think you're probably right." She stood up, setting William on his feet. "I'll be right back," she told him.

William tugged at her dress. "Mother? Uncle Jack did the right thing this time, didn't he?"

He asked it so thoughtfully, as though he already knew the answer. Elizabeth looked at him. "Yes, darling. For once, Jack did the right thing." William grinned.

Elizabeth headed towards the door, following Jack's path. She had lost sight of him again and she sped up, needing to catch him before he disappeared forever. She chased him through a sea of people, brushing aside the hands that reached out to her with mumbled apologies they likely couldn't hear.

She was outside, and her eyes darted up and down the streets. There, rounding the corner of the inn, Jack disappeared once more from view. "Jack!" she called, running to catch him.

Elizabeth rounded the corner of the building, and nearly collided with him. He had stopped at the sound of her voice. "Jack," she breathed again. "I need to thank you for taking care of William."

Jack smiled weakly. "No need, Love. Can't have the boy running off to do something completely stupid, can we? Be too much like the whelp for my taste, and I like the kid too much to allow that."

Elizabeth laughed softly, and continued to look into his eyes. They were so deep, and there was such sorrow in them. Had she been the cause of that? "Jack, I…"

"Shhh…" he shook his head. "Don't worry, Love. There's no need."

"But there is," she disagreed. Elizabeth searched for the words. "I was so cruel to you… it was unfair." She felt the tears building in her again, and she let them fall, unashamed. "When you went away… I missed you," she admitted. "Even when Will came home, things were so different with him, but with you – it was like you'd never gone at all."

A tiny spark of hope ignited in Jack's dead heart, and he stepped closer to her. "Elizabeth," he said in a breath.

She stopped him, crying softly all the while. "I love him," Elizabeth said. "Will… I won't give up on him just because things are tough. But I want you to know that if things were different…" she looked down at her hands. "You're a good man, Jack," she said once again. "Even I didn't know how true that was till now."

Elizabeth sighed in exasperation at her inability to say what she needed to say, and a shrill laugh burst from her, pulling at her chest. She saw Jack frown at the sound of it. She continued before he could speak. "I think you'll probably panic to hear me say this… God knows it's not something any reasonable woman would admit to a pirate; but I think it's important that you know it."

She took a deep breath. "It's a horrible thing to be alone," she said slowly, meeting his eyes. "To think that no one truly loves you for who you are. I want you to know that… I do."

Jack puzzled over her words for a moment. Did she mean what he thought she meant? "Elizabeth," he began, but she silenced him by closing the distance between them, and taking his hand in hers.

"It can't change anything," she said quietly. "I made a promise I cannot break, and I love Will too much to hurt him. Thank you for coming back," she added. "For being a good father to my son."

A strange glistening rose in Jack's eyes, and he closed them to hide the evidence of his emotion. Before she could talk herself out of it, Elizabeth leaned in, and kissed him.

It was a sweet, lovely kiss, just as she had intended; something for him to remember her by instead of the last one she'd given him. But just as she was about to pull away, Jack pulled her closer and took over.

His kiss was full of need and longing, and a despair he'd kept hidden since childhood. Jack's fingers burrowed into her hair, cupping her face in his large, rough hands. He had found a place to belong, and though he could not keep it, he would not let it go just yet.

Elizabeth could not think, and at that moment, Will did not exist, and never had. The heat in Jack's kissed burned away the past and the future, until there was only this moment. A tiny voice of logic cried out somewhere deep inside that she should step back, run away, but then she tasted the rum on his lips, and the faint scent of roses from his recent bath teased at her nose. She even tasted things that couldn't exist within the wet fury of his mouth - the salt air, and the vengeful waves. She tasted the hot Caribbean sun, and the bright blue sky above the islands. She tasted pineapples and mangoes, and the pointed fingers of palm trees, and the clear, brilliant blue depths of the sea. Above all, she tasted burnt sails, lovingly tended decks and joyously waving rigging. She tasted the _Pearl_. She tasted home. She tasted freedom.

With a gasp, she pulled back and stared into Jack's heavy eyes. She knew it pained him, for the expression on his face told her that he had felt exactly what she had in their kiss. There was something in each of them that had always called to the other, and in this one moment of honest connection, they had found what it was, and they knew they couldn't have it.

Agonizingly, Elizabeth stepped away and turned… to meet the eyes of her husband standing five feet away, staring at them in horror.

"Will," she whispered, and behind her she heard Jack swear under his breath. Will backed away from her slowly, shaking his head, and in a panic she followed. "Will!" she said again, more intently. But it was too late. In a flash he had turned and was running away, back towards the docks.

Towards the _Dutchman_. Elizabeth felt the hysteria she'd been struggling to suppress all day suddenly rise to strangle her. She screamed, and the sound drew a crowd from the Inn that began to grow once word spread that something was going on outside.

Ignoring Jack's cry of her name, Elizabeth sprinted after her husband, but her hesitation had cost her. He was already out of her sight, and tears were blurring her eyes again. She darted down alley's that would lead her to the beaches more quickly, all the while shouting her husband's name in tortured breaths.

Elizabeth stopped suddenly, confused. The tiny street she was on did not look familiar, and a desperate cry rose in her throat as she frantically looked around, trying to decide which way she should go.

A low, familiar laugh came from out of the shadows, and when Elizabeth turned to locate the source of it, a woman stepped out of the shadows. "You will not catch him, Miss Swann," Calypso said, grinning. "He is too fast."

Misery clouded her voice. "Why?" Elizabeth begged for an answer."

Calypso's smile widened. "It was him what took my Jones. It should have been me what brought about dat devil's final punishment, but honest Will stabbed him heart before I could swallow him whole."

"He had no choice!" Elizabeth screamed. "He would have died!"

Calypso's grin faded. "Instead of death, he chose to take what was not his to take – an offer of salvation that were meant for Davy Jones alone. It is Will Turner's destiny to be Jones' successor as Captain of my ship… but not only for ten years. He is mine, forever."

"No!" Elizabeth threw herself at the goddess. "I will not let you have him!"

A sudden gust of wind rose up, and the skies began to darken. The power of the burgeoning storm collided with Elizabeth hard, knocking her to the ground. Calypso stood over Elizabeth, grinning toothily again.

"Poor Captain Swann," Calypso said. "Can never have what she want. "Not Jack Sparrow, not the life of a pirate, and not her husband." She chuckled, and as Elizabeth watched, the sea goddess began to fade into the storm. "You see, child, you only had to remain faithful to him unto death… and Will was the only person who could decide if you had failed. It was in him power to stay with you all along."

And then she was gone. Fighting against the howling of the wind, Elizabeth jumped up and began running back the way she had come. In minutes, she knew where she was, and it was exactly the direction she wanted to be going.

She hadn't been back to the fort since returning to Port Royal, and it appeared to be completely empty. Litter raced across the stones, and Elizabeth was glad the weather had swept indoors anyone who would have attempted to stop her.

Breathlessly, she reached her destination – the place where Commodore James Norrington had once asked her to be his wife; the place where she and Will had first kissed, where Jack had leapt from the wall to escape the gallows and where Elizabeth had plunged into the sea in a deadly tight corset.

Looking out over the water, she saw the _Flying Dutchman_ raising the last of its anchors and unfurling its canvas sails. Rain began to pelt her, biting into her skin with the pinch of ice, but she ignored it and clambered up onto the wall.

"Elizabeth!" a voice called, and turning, she saw Jack running towards her. He stopped ten feet away, as if afraid to come nearer. "Don't do this, Love."

Elizabeth sobbed. "You don't understand," she told him. "It was Calypso… Will will be hers for eternity if I don't." She tried to smile, but she was shaking too hard. "I killed you once… I nearly died to bring you back. I can't leave Will to this fate, not if I can stop it."

Without waiting for a reply, Elizabeth turned to the sea and stretched out her arms. "Calypso!" She screamed into the wind. Lighting flashed and thunder roared to life around her. "Here I stand, faithful unto death!"

Jack shouted, "No!" and started towards her again.

Elizabeth looked back one last time and said, "Tell William that I love him," and then she was gone.

The wind screamed in fury, and Jack bent as far over the wall as he dared. Both he and Elizabeth had survived a fall from this place before, but even as he searched the angry waves below, he knew that in this storm, luck was not on her side. She did not rise from the blackness of the sea.

The earth shook, and Jack realized the buildings were moving as well, trembling under the power of a quake. As he looked up, he saw, in the distance, the _Flying Dutchman_ catch a stray beam of light from the sun, and it was completely illuminated for a moment before it sank finally, peacefully, beneath the waves. Elizabeth had saved them all.

"Uncle Jack!"

Returning his attention to his own surroundings, Jack saw the walls of the fort begin to fall, and amidst the chaos, a small, lost looking boy was running towards him. Brushing aside his emotions, Jack grabbed William up into his arms and ran as fast as he could, through a city now on fire and tumbling to the ground. People all around them screamed and died, and it was all Jack could to do get down the beaches, where hundreds of pirates were panicking as they attempted to sail away from burning city above them.

Jack did not stop running until he landed on the desolate beach near the cavern that hid the _Black Pearl_ once more. Rocks were falling from the cliffs, and before his eyes, Jack watched the cavern collapse. He fell to his knees and crawled away from William, staring blindly into the distance. For a moment he was deathly silent, but in a great rush, all of Jack's fury and sorrow burst from him like a flood, and his anguished screams drown out the sounds of destruction that were all around them.

William was sobbing too, and as he pushed his way into Jack's arms, the man realized that the boy must have seen his mother fall to the sharp rocks below the fort; he knew she was gone. They were all they had left.

Jack found himself squeezing the boy, clinging to him like a shipwrecked man surrounded by the flotsam of a ruined hope. William clung back just as tightly, and for long minutes, the two of them let their sorrow blind them to the end of the world.

He did not heed the passage of time, but slowly Jack realized that his own ship, the _Black Pearl_, was not where he had left her, but floating in the distance before the horizon. The smaller longboat braved the hungry waves trying to reach the beach, and Jack took a shuddering breath as he realized that not all was lost after all. If the _Pearl_ still lived, then there was still hope, slim though it may be.

William was asleep, exhausted by grief and Jack tried not to disturb him as he picked the boy up and carried him towards the water where Gibbs was nearing the shore. In his arms, the child stirred, and for a moment, heavy brown eyes met his; eyes that looked exactly like another's.

"What are we going to do, Uncle Jack?" William mumbled softly, before drowning in sleep once more.

Despite William's unconsciousness, Jack answered. "We're going to do what your mother would do, Mate. We're going to rescue her."

_A/N: Okay... take a breather and dry those tears. I promised the real story of the Flying Dutchman, and here it is, as brief as I can make it._

There was this Dutch sailor who was trying to round the Cape Horn in the midst of a storm. He kept getting pushed back and finally, in his anger, he promised his soul to the devil that he would round the Cape forever if he could only get round it safely this once. The devil took him up on it, and the captain made it round. But when he got there, he remember his promise, and he was upset. An angel pitied him, and gave him the stipulation that he could go ashore once every ten (yes, TEN) years, and if he met a woman on shore who would love him unto death, then he would be freed from his curse.

So time passed, and decades came and went, and stories of the deathly ship whose crew could not die began to spread across the world. On night, another sailor pulled into a port. He would be sailing to his home the following day, but his crew needed rest for the night. Alongside him in the dark, another ship had appeared so quietly that the sailor hadn't even noticed. There was not activity on board, and the sailor (who was the captain but for confusion's sake, I'll call him sailor) hailed the other ship. There was no response, but when he tried to approach the ship, a man appeared. It was the Dutch captain, and the sailor thought he looked so desolate, lonely and tired, that he offered the man the hospitality of his own home. They agreed to go there that very night, but first the captain asked if the sailor had a daughter. When the sailor said yes, the captain asked for her hand in marriage. The sailor was surprised, but the captain blew a whistle, and some men appeared with a chest full of treasure. The captain said that all of it and more would be the sailor's, if he could marry the man's daughter, and the sailor agreed.

Now, the daughter of the sailor was a dreamer, who would sit with her friends at their spinning wheels and think about the romantic story of the poor Dutchman. She felt that she'd know him in an instant if she saw him, and she longed for nothing more than to be the one to set him free. But, that was just a story, and she was being courted by another boy who she knew intended to ask for her hand upon her father's return. But when her father brought the stranger home, she felt that she knew who he was, and she consented to marry him the moment she was told of the arrangement.

The captain felt that at last, he might be freed from his curse, but all at once, the girl's other fiancee found her, and though she tried to explain and calm him down, he swore that she had promised herself to him! Well, she hadn't, but the captain overheard, and he despaired that all was lost. Ignoring her pleas and protestations, he ran for his ship, and quicker than humanly possible, they made ready to set sail again, for another ten years. The girl broke away from her family and friends, running to the cliffs where she could see the ship fleeing, and hear the mournful crew singing sadly. She flung her arms wide, and shouted "praise be to the angels! Here I stand, faithful unto death!" and flung herself into the water. The Dutchman sank beneath the waves, her crew finally at rest.

There it is, in short. One astute reader commented on the fact that a woman's faithfulness is the key to the man's salvation, and I agree whole-heartedly with her sentiments on that. However, there is a romantic quality to the story that can't be denied, despite the misogyny, and doesn't really translate when the took the ship and her story to the movies. Feel free to comment, question, or rant in good or bad ways! Always - Kimberlee.


End file.
